


Reconciliation

by BstnStrg13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4882231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BstnStrg13/pseuds/BstnStrg13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An imagined start to Season 4.  Written before the promo's, so no spoilers and not compliant.<br/>John Diggle has held onto his anger toward Oliver for putting his wife and daughter in danger. But when unknown forces threaten Felicity, the two come together to keep her safe.<br/>Starts with Oliver running, because that's how every season starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Oliver Queen had spent a good portion of his life avoiding routines.

When he was on the cusp of adulthood, entering college, he was certain routines were things that belonged to older, duller people. Get up, attend class, do homework…all of that seemed the first step in a slippery slope that would eventually lead to spending ten hours a day in an office and the rest of your life with just one woman. Not an attractive thought.

On the island, after the Gambit went down, routines took on a more menacing tone - they were things that could get you killed. Be predictable, be at the same place at the same time, react the same way to the same threat, and they would know where to find you and how to get past your defenses. It just wasn't smart.

And when he'd returned to Starling City – well, having a secret identity didn't mesh well with having a routine. If he made it too easy to line up Oliver Queen's patterns with those of the Arrow, then even the dull-witted SCPD (Captain Lance excluded) would eventually figure things out. And the criminals – they'd have a field day.

No…for more than ten years Oliver Queen had been convinced that routines were not his friend and he had become very adept at avoiding them. In fact, he had become pretty sure that his life and routines were mutually exclusive things. So, it came as a something of a surprise that, after little more than two months away from Starling City, he had developed several. And even more surprising; that they felt easy, natural, and fundamentally good.

It had started with the bungalow on the beach. They had only intended to stay there a couple of nights – a week tops. The bungalow itself was tiny – he was pretty sure it packed a so-called kitchen, bedroom and sitting area into less square footage than his former bedroom at the Queen mansion. The little town just south of Coast City didn't offer much by way of excitement. There was no Wifi for Felicity, and how much time could one really spend listening to the surf and the gulls? After five years on and off a deserted and very dangerous island he shouldn't have any desire to be near the ocean.

But somehow that week had extended into two, and then six. And he wasn't going crazy with boredom and Felicity was managing to both stay off the grid _and_ retain her sanity. There were picnics, books, and occasional trips into the small town to see a movie at the single-screen theater.

And before he knew it, he'd developed routines. There was watching the sunset every evening, talking on the beach and enjoying the way Felicity's agile mind went in unexpected directions when encouraged by a couple of glasses of a good Cabernet. There was waking at sunrise and listening to her gently breathing beside him, her lips slightly parted and an almost-smile on her face. There was the weekly trip into town for groceries, supplemented by the twice-a-week visit from Mr. Farrell, the kindly property manager, with fresh towels, newspapers, and milk for the coffee.

And there was going for the morning run.

Oliver was not at all sure where his journey of self-discovery was going to take him. This was the first breather he'd had in eight years and he'd been so singularly focused on saving Starling City that he'd never given much thought to what he'd do when the city was in the hands of others. One thing he'd settled on shortly after leaving Starling, however, was that no matter who Oliver Queen turned out to be, he was not going to be fat or soft. If for no other reason than to keep seeing the hungry look in Felicity's eyes when he shed his clothes to step into the shower, he'd decided that the new Oliver Queen still liked working out. And the morning run on the beach was part of that.

Some days Felicity ran with him. He'd been surprised by her speed and endurance. If he wasn't pushing hard, she could both keep up and maintain a steady stream of chatter. When he thought a little more about it, he realized it made sense. Legs like that didn't come without some effort.

Some mornings, he ran alone. Felicity, with her uncanny ability to read his moods as accurately as she could read a wiring diagram, would sense when he needed time to himself and announce that she planned to sleep in that morning. Typically, when he returned from his run he would find her wading in the shallow pools on the beach created by the evening's high tide, examining starfish, minnows and the polished stones left behind. The collection of shells on their bedroom windowsill kept growing as a result of her morning explorations. He was fascinated by the fact that a woman who was smart enough to break through ARGUS encryption could also be entertained by something as simple as seashells on the beach. When he'd teased her about it, she had given him her patented look of exasperation and mumbled something about "elegance in simplicity" and "don't you have pushups to do?" Oliver didn't press. For one, she was happy. And for two, it wasn't a bad way to end his run, watching her hike her sundress up to mid-thigh as she waded in the pools.

Perhaps the oddest routine of all was that Oliver Queen found the number of times he _wanted_ to be alone to be shrinking. Even in his party days he'd always craved moments of solitude, times when he could shut out the world and just be himself. The Queen mansion, with its dozens of barely used rooms, had afforded him the opportunity. It was one of the few things he remembered fondly about his old home.

Now he seldom felt the urge to disappear, despite the fact that they were living in a place the size of a postage stamp _and_ Felicity was a very clingy sleeper. When they'd first left Starling, he would wake several times during the night, always to find her holding onto some part of him – a bicep, his thigh, his hip. If he moved away from her, her forehead would crease, her breathing would quicken, and she'd shift around until she found him again. Once contact was re-established, her breathing would return to its slow and steady rhythm. It was understandable, he supposed. He'd taken off enough in the past for her to worry if she woke to an empty bed. Most nights now he slept straight through to morning, but he assumed she was maintaining her habit of holding onto him throughout the night. The thought filled him with warmth.

This morning was definitely not a morning that he wanted to spend alone. He'd awoken feeling refreshed. Two months away from fighting had allowed numerous nagging injuries to heal and he was pain-free for the first time in a long time. He felt as peppy as a teenager. When Felicity didn't rouse immediately, he simply picked her up bodily from bed and carried her over his shoulder for the short walk to the kitchen so they could get the coffee started together. The early morning light filtered through the windows, Felicity looked beautiful wearing his tee shirt and a mass of tumbled blonde hair, and he felt a lightness that he would never have believed possible a few weeks ago.

He couldn't help grinning at her. "What do you think we should do for our run this morning? The long route? It looks really nice out there. We could burn off enough calories to have some of those fresh donuts Mr. Farrell usually gets."

To his surprise, she didn't return the smile, even with the promise of her favorite donuts. "I'm not so sure. I think I'll pass this morning. You're looking awfully energetic. I don't think I'll be able to keep up."

"Felicity, you keep up just fine."

"Yeah," she agreed, "normally I do. But you look like you're jumping out of your skin. It might be better to let you take this one alone. Of course," she paused, and this time she did smile, "there are other ways we could expend that energy."

He laughed. The fact that they could finally talk like this – and _do_ this – was one thing that had not become routine and maybe never would. "Felicity, believe me, I'm pretty sure I've got enough energy for both."

"Well, if that's the case, then I definitely think I should pass on this run. Maybe not on the donuts, though. I'll be out on the beach. I think the tide was really high last night, so there should be some good finds in the pools."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"I'm sure." And she smiled again, her dimples showing so mischievously that he was tempted to cancel the run and take her up on her offer for expending energy. He reminded himself that, Arrow or not, it would be a bad habit to throw discipline totally out the window. He really should keep up the exercise routine.

He pulled on a tee shirt and shorts and started lacing up his running shoes. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Sounds good."

And Oliver left the bungalow and began his run on the packed sand near the water. It was a glorious morning, the barely risen sunlight bouncing brightly off the waves. Without Felicity he ran hard, alternating an already brisk pace with occasional sprints. Before he knew it, he'd covered three miles and made the turn to head back home. He was less than a quarter mile away when he spotted her in her usual place on the beach. Unlike most mornings, however, she wasn't alone.

There were two men standing near her and, even this far away, he could tell something was wrong. She stood stiffly in a defensive posture, the bucket she normally carried to gather her shells clutched in front of her. Despite the sweat running down his body from six hard miles, he felt a sudden chill. Felicity had seen enough over the last couple of years to have a good sense for danger, and she clearly was sensing it now. He picked up his cadence, trying to close the distance and get to her as quickly as possible.

Suddenly he saw her swing the bucket, hitting one of the men across the side of the face before spinning away and running toward the bungalow. The man she'd hit paused, clutching one hand to his face. The other man ran after her.

Oliver yelled, hoping to distract the man who was chasing her. It didn't work. "Felicity!" he yelled again, transitioning into a full-blown sprint.  
She didn't look up and she didn't make it to the bungalow. The second man caught her, grabbing her arm above the elbow, yanking her back and slapping her hard across the face when she turned. The blow was severe enough to make her stagger.

Oliver was only about a hundred yards away now, pulling air into his burning lungs and pushing harder with every stride.

The man who had hit Felicity seemed to notice him for the first time. He quickly picked her up – she was still obviously dazed from his blow – and began to run himself, yelling something to the other man. Oliver could see they were headed for the path that led from the beach to the street. It became a race to see who could get to the street first.

Oliver didn't win.

He heard a car door slam just as he found the path, and reached the street only to see it speed off, with a squeal of its tires.

And in the space of less than two minutes, one of the best mornings of Oliver's life had just become one of the worst.

* * *

 

John Diggle sometimes found it hard to believe that he and his wife had both served in the same army. It seemed reasonable to think that years of similar training and service would foster similar habits. For example, after basic training, Special Forces training, and numerous years of sleeping in makeshift quarters in the deserts of Afghanistan, Diggle rarely slept past sunrise. Despite his best efforts, his body would instantly transition from oblivion to full alertness as soon as there was a hint of light in the room. Lyla, on the other hand, with years of identical service, seemed able to sleep until well past nine, ignoring both light and sound. This included any sounds their infant daughter might make - no matter how loud or persistent. It was, Diggle decided, one of Lyla's gifts.

Still, he really didn't mind. While Lyla slept, early morning had become his and Sara's special time. He'd pick her up, change her, then talk to her in the kitchen as he prepared her breakfast and his coffee. Diggle didn't have a lot of experience for comparison, but she seemed an easy baby. She smiled often and talked back constantly, a mixture of baby sounds that one of these days might become words. Every time she babbled she looked at him as if she expected him to understand. It made him laugh.

This morning was a typical morning. He'd been up with her for nearly an hour, with Lyla still sleeping soundly. Seated in her high chair, Sara was covered in cereal and pureed apricots and was grinning widely at him, gesticulating with her tiny hands. It was hard not to smile back.

His cell phone vibrated on the table.

It was early for a phone call. He looked away from his daughter and at the caller ID.

Felicity.

She'd been calling about once a week, just to let him know things were fine and to check up on any news in Starling City. She always asked about Lyla and Sara and occasionally about Laurel and Captain Lance as well. She talked about her recent activities but managed to stay carefully away from the subject of Oliver, and Diggle made sure to do the same. It made their conversations a little strained but it seemed the safest course. Diggle might not feel the white-hot fury he'd felt toward Oliver when Lyla was kidnapped, but that anger wasn't gone. It had settled into a steady, simmering burn accompanied by a strong sense of betrayal, and Felicity had long stopped trying to mend it. Her own happiness was apparent every time they talked and, regardless of his feelings toward Oliver, Diggle couldn't be more delighted. If anyone deserved love and happiness, it was Felicity.

He answered his phone, "Felicity. It's a little early for a call. Sara and I are just finishing breakfast."

The voice that responded, however, didn't belong to Felicity. "It's Oliver."

Diggle froze. His first reaction, other than shock, was to tell Oliver to go to hell. Using Felicity's phone to reach him because he knew Diggle wouldn't take his call was a cheap tactic.

But then he paused. Oliver's voice had sounded odd, terse but with an undercurrent of what Digg could only think of as panic. Panic was not normally in Oliver's vocabulary, and there was only one thing that could make him sound like this. John Diggle felt a prickling at the back of his neck.

He swallowed hard. "Has something happened to Felicity?"

Oliver exhaled in a short, sharp burst. "They took her, John. Two guys on the beach. They…they hit her then grabbed her. I was out running. I saw them, but I couldn't get there in time. They've taken her somewhere in a car and I haven't got the least idea where."

"Anyone you recognized?"

"No. Their car had California plates and I got the last three digits, though."

"Have the police been able to do anything with the info?"

There was a long silence on the phone.

"Oliver, are you telling me you didn't call the police?"

"No. You're the first person I thought of. We usually figure these things out on our own. I didn't even think to call the cops. I'm still not sure what they can do."

Diggle tried to keep his voice reasonable. "Normally I might agree. But normally we have a foundry full of computing equipment and Felicity to run a search. Now, everything in the foundry's been confiscated and Felicity is the one that's missing. I know you may not like the idea, but the police have access to cameras and databases and can communicate from city to city. I think you should call them."

The fact that Oliver didn't argue told Diggle how frightened he really was. He sounded defeated when he said, "You're right. I'll do that right now. But, John?"

"Yes?"

"Will you come anyway? I know things aren't good between us, but this is for Felicity."

"Of course I'll come, Oliver. I'm just thinking about what else we might do to find her. Maybe we should ask Waller to help. Lyla can call her."

To Digg's surprise, Oliver did not jump all over the offer. Instead, he said very slowly, "John, I'm not sure we should bring Waller into this."

"Because?"

"Because Waller could be behind it."

"You think Waller might have kidnapped Felicity? Why?"

"She has skills that could be very useful to ARGUS and Amanda's not above grabbing resources when she needs them. Believe me, I know. Is there anyone else we can ask to help with the tech?"

"Palmer's still MIA since the explosion. Cisco might be able to do something but Waller would really be our best bet."

There was another long pause. "Try Cisco. If he thinks he can't do anything, we can ask Waller."

Diggle sighed. "Okay. I'll call Cisco and then I'll see what I can arrange for transport. You're still on the beach south of Coast City?"

"Yes. And John?"

"Yeah?"

"Did they confiscate my bow?"

"No, we got it out of there before the police tore the place apart. It's in my apartment."

"Good. Can you bring it?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

Digg had managed to call in a few favors and finagle a lift on a military transport plane that traveled from Starling to the naval base outside of Coast City. It wasn't a long drive to the bungalow from there. The relief that Oliver felt upon seeing him was tremendous. Digg brought a small arsenal that included Oliver's bow, quiver, and an assortment of handguns. He also brought a competence that Oliver was sure exceeded that of local law enforcement – particularly the deputy who had shown up earlier.

As promised, Oliver had called the police. The local sheriff sent a young man that made Barry Allen look like a grizzled veteran; Oliver doubted the kid was of legal drinking age and he probably hadn't been shaving all that long either. Apparently, the sheriff believed it was fairly common for relationships to fall apart during secluded vacations on the beach and assumed this was another case of a young lady either finding greener pastures or running back home to mother. He had not seen any reason to disrupt his morning omelet to take the call himself and fill in the requisite paperwork. When Oliver described the abduction to the deputy, the kid's eyes widened and he immediately got on his phone. He then told Oliver that they'd be sending a _detective_ from Coast City shortly.

Diggle arrived while Oliver was waiting for the detective. Waiting had never been Oliver's strong suit, and he found himself feeling angrier and more helpless with every minute that passed. Felicity had been grabbed a little before 8:00 and it was now almost 11:00. He needed to _do_ something. He was grateful when Digg demanded they go out on the beach and Oliver walk him through exactly what happened; he recalled a few things he hadn't remembered before and he was able to regain his focus. While he knew in reality they had accomplished little, it at least made him feel that they were working toward a plan.

The detective from Coast City arrived while Oliver was still out on the beach with Diggle. He seemed like a less intelligent and more suspicious (if that were possible) version of Captain Lance and he made no effort to hide his disdain for Oliver Queen - a young man he obviously felt had too much time, money and privilege and not enough responsibilities. Oliver, in turn, took an instant disliking to the detective but did his best to conceal it behind a respectful demeanor. The guy may not be able to help, but he could hurt a great deal if he decided to get in the way of Oliver's personal investigation. Diggle also regarded the man with a carefully neutral expression.

Detective Zimmer wore a wrinkled white shirt with his tie loosely knotted, looking like every clichéd version of a police detective Oliver had ever seen on television. His thin, dark hair was arranged in a comb-over that quickly became undone as the breeze lifted the strands and sent them flying. He pulled out a pen and small notebook from his pants pocket and stared at Oliver expectantly. "So, you told the deputy your wife was abducted?"

"Girlfriend," Oliver corrected.

"Your girlfriend was abducted?"

"Yes."

Detective Zimmer's brow furrowed. "I talked to your property manager, Mr. Farrell, on the way here. He said you're staying in the cottage with your wife." He paused to give Oliver a hard look, "Does the wife know about the girlfriend?"

Oliver gave a silent groan. It was true that Mr. Farrell referred to Felicity as his wife. _That's quite a wife you have there, Mr. Queen. Pretty and smart. You two are a lovely couple. It's nice to see young people who still believe in marriage._ At first he had tried to correct the man, but after a while it seemed easier just to go along.

Now he was going to have to clarify, as much to Diggle as to the detective. "The person Mr. Farrell referred to as my wife is my girlfriend, Felicity Smoak. I don't have a wife. I tried to explain a few times, but it never seemed to stick. I didn't think it was that important."

The detective nodded. "Well, that certainly makes more sense. Mr. Farrell said the two of you are inseparable. Said he has to approach the cottage carefully to make sure he doesn't walk in on the two of you…showing affection for one another. I was wondering how you'd find the energy for a girlfriend as well as a wife."

Oliver felt his face grow warm, and he found himself looking anywhere but at Digg. There were a great many things he hoped to share with John if the man decided he was willing to resume their friendship, but the details of his sex life with Felicity were not one of them.

"So," the detective resumed, "Can you tell me what happened?"

Oliver recounted his story – coming back from his run and finding the two men standing near Felicity, seeing them hit her, then carry her off to the waiting car.

"I just," he closed his eyes, "I couldn't get there fast enough. I tried…" He felt Digg's hand rest briefly on his shoulder.

If Detective Zimmer felt similar sympathy, he didn't show it. "Can you think of any reason why someone would want to take Ms. Smoak?" he asked, matter-of-factly.

Oliver looked at Diggle, trying to read from the other man's expression exactly how he much he should reveal. There was, unfortunately, a long list of reasons – one that started with an ex-boyfriend hacktivist from college and ended with the League of Assassins. And in between, there were a whole bunch of bad guys. It didn't feel like a good idea to explain this to the detective.

"Well," Oliver began slowly, "she's very good in her field. Probably one of the best."

"And her field is?"

"Computer Science. She was a vice president at Palmer Technologies."

The detective examined the photo he held of Felicity. "This girl? A vice president? At twenty-five?" His voice held more than a note of incredulity.

"Yes."

The detective paused as if buried in thought, then said almost casually, "What about money? That's often a motive in kidnappings."

Oliver shook his head. "If whoever took her thinks I can afford a large ransom, they haven't been paying attention to the news. I lost my company and a good chunk of my fortune over a year ago."

The detective's smile took Oliver by surprise - it was unexpectedly shrewd. For the first time Oliver realized he might not be as stupid as he looked. "Not your money, Mr. Queen. Her money."

"Felicity's money?" Oliver looked at Diggle in confusion. "I'm sure she had a decent salary as VP…but I didn't think it would be enough for a kidnapping."

Detective Zimmer stared at Oliver, and the intelligence in the man's eyes was now unmistakable. "As close as the two of you are, you must be aware that Ray Palmer signed over his shares in Palmer Technologies to her. All his shares. He's been missing for almost two months. If he doesn't appear soon, she's going to hold a very large interest in a Fortune 100 technology company. In my book, that makes her a wealthy and powerful young woman. It's a pretty good motive for a kidnapping."

Oliver's confusion grew. Felicity had said nothing about any of this. "No, I didn't know. John, did she anything to you?" He looked at Diggle.

Digg shook his head. "No."

The detective was watching the two of them closely and it dawned on Oliver that the man had a strategy - what had seemed like a random series of questions was not, in fact, random at all. And if their ignorance of Felicity's newly achieved wealth was a surprise to him, he didn't show it. Sure enough, the detective still had another motive to investigate. "And finally," he continued thoughtfully, "there's her association with The Arrow. I hear she was his go-to girl for all things technical, including some pretty sophisticated hacking."

It was Oliver's turn to stare at the detective. He wasn't sure what the appropriate reaction to that statement might be. He certainly wasn't going to agree with it.

Diggle said slowly, "You've been talking to Captain Lance."

The detective nodded, "When I heard Ms. Smoak was from Starling and associated with Oliver Queen, SCPD was the first call I made. I have to confess my original thought was that Mr. Queen here had arranged this whole thing as way to restore his wealth. Cozy up to a rich woman, marry her, then inherit a big fortune when she disappears. But," he continued before Oliver could object, "You haven't married her. And Lance told me that the two of you have been stuck together like glue for a couple of years – back when you were the one with the money. He said you'd sooner die than let anything happen to Ms. Smoak. He was very certain you had nothing to do with the kidnapping."

Oliver swallowed hard. He was surprised that Lance would say anything positive about him at all.

As if reading his mind, Detective Zimmer went on, "The Captain is very worried about Ms. Smoak. He seems fond of _her_ , despite what he thinks of you, and he offered to help in any way he could." He paused, and Oliver thought his confusion might be real this time. "And he said an odd thing. When I said it was too bad the Arrow was dead – that he might have been able to help find her – Lance just laughed. He said the Arrow might not be as dead as everyone thinks and he wouldn't want to be the kidnappers if Ms. Smoak's friends found her before the police did."

* * *

 

Felicity Smoak lay on the backseat of the speeding car. There was a blindfold over her eyes, her hands were bound in front of her, and her jaw ached from the blow she'd received on the beach. If this was her punishment for skipping the morning run and thinking about donuts, then she decided that karma truly was a bitch.

Her two abductors had spoken little, giving her no hint of why she had been taken or where they might bring her. She hadn't recognized either of the men, but things had happened quickly on the beach and she hadn't exactly had time to study them. The one she'd hit with her bucket had been young - younger than she was, she'd guess. The one who'd hit and grabbed her was older and, given the pain on the right side of her face, apparently a southpaw.

Her first thought was that Slade Wilson had somehow managed to escape Lian Yu and was wreaking his revenge on Oliver. When she ran through the list of criminals she'd faced over the last three years he seemed the one most likely to come after her physically. The thought frightened her in the extreme. In all her previous encounters with villains she had never felt this defenseless. She had no tablet and even her cell phone was back at the bungalow. She was wearing only the thin sundress she often wore when combing the beach and her feet were bare. Somehow the fact that she had no shoes made her feel especially vulnerable.

But there was also anger there, lurking beneath the fear, trying to push its way to the surface. Anger that after two years of dancing around each other, by the luck of some strange and likely unrepeatable circumstances she and Oliver had finally confessed their love at the same time – and now these guys were going to fuck it all up. Anger because Oliver was at last happy and not beating himself up with guilt, and that was all going to change if she were killed. Anger because she was pretty sure these two guys' IQ's together didn't add up to hers, and yet they still had the upper hand.

She did her best to let the anger force the fear aside. _Concentrate_ , she told herself. _Think_.

And then one of the kidnappers said to the other, "You should call him."Felicity was pretty sure it was the older kidnapper. He had a slight accent, but its origin was tough to place. Thankfully, it wasn't Australian.

And the other responded in a youthful and slightly submissive tone, "Right."

And for a fleeting second Felicity felt hope leap in her chest because she thought they might be calling Oliver, but then Young Kidnapper's voice said very politely, "We have her, sir. We're taking her to the place right now." There was a long pause. "No, sir, she's not hurt. She, um, fell trying to get away from us and hit her head, but she's fine."

There was an even longer pause, then Young Kidnapper's voice returned, "Yes, sir, I understand. We'll take care of that. We'll see you tonight."

A few beats passed and then then Older Kidnapper asked, "What did he say?"

The other responded, "Not much. Just what he's said before. Don't hurt her, and make sure we don't let her near anything electronic, especially any kind of computer."

_Don't hurt her_ , Felicity thought, I like the sound of that.

Older Kidnapper chuckled, "He seems really hung up on the electronics thing. She doesn't look like an electronics genius to me. What do you suppose he wants with her?"

Young Kidnapper sighed, "You saw her. I can think of a lot of things I'd like to do with her." His voice sounded more wistful than threatening.

Older Kidnapper's reply was sharp. "Don't even think about it, not if you want to stay alive." After a short pause, he added, "And as long as I've known him he's never shown the slightest interest in a woman. Anyway, she's young enough to be his daughter."

Young Kidnapper replied, "When has that ever mattered? But, you're right, it's none of our business. Let's just do what we're being paid to do."

The car lapsed back into silence. Felicity lay as still as possible and tried desperately to come up with a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

Detective Zimmer promised to call Oliver as soon as he had any news. Oliver was willing to rely on that promise about as much as he was willing to rely on Malcolm Merlyn disbanding the League of Assassins. He was pretty sure he and Digg were Felicity's best - if not only – hope, and they needed to formulate a plan now. As he walked back to the bungalow with Diggle, he thought about Felicity assuming a controlling interest in Palmer Technologies. It was the only new piece of information that had emerged.

"Why do you think she didn't say anything about Palmer leaving her the company?" he asked.

Diggle shook his head, "Really, Oliver? That's what you're thinking about?"

"I think it matters. As far as I know, everyone who would want to get back at me by taking Felicity is either in prison or dead. But Palmer Technologies and the money – that's new. Why would she hide it?"

Digg sighed, "First of all, you're assuming this is about _you_ – just like you always do." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. "I think we both know that Felicity has skills that make her an attractive target all on her own. And second - it may matter that she has money but I'm not sure it matters that she didn't tell us. Hell, there was so much going on with the League right before you two left that maybe _she_ doesn't know." He hesitated briefly, before adding, "I do think we have to find out what happens to those shares if Felicity disappears as well as Ray. There's a motive for somebody there."

"Was Cisco able to do anything with the license information?"

Diggle shrugged, "He's not as fast as Felicity but given the make of the car and the three digits, he was eventually able to trace it. Stolen. Police haven't found it yet, so it could still give us a clue about where they took her if it ever turns up. Of course," he added, "your friend Detective Zimmer is not likely to share that information."

They climbed the three short steps to the door of the bungalow Oliver and Felicity had been sharing for the last six weeks and stepped inside. Oliver watched John Diggle, always observant, absorb the details of their living arrangements. It was, Oliver supposed, not too hard to understand the property manager mistaking his marital status. The single basket on the floor with their dirty laundry intermingled, the shopping list stuck on the refrigerator door noting "detergent" and "coffee" in Felicity's careless handwriting, his and her toiletries scattered in the bathroom, the potted plants on the steps that were Felicity's attempt at growing tomatoes – everything spoke of a couple that had been together more than two months, a couple that was thoroughly comfortable with sharing all aspects of their lives. A couple that had bypassed dating and headed straight into a full-blown relationship.

As Diggle studied it all, Oliver wondered what was running through his ex-partner's mind. It shouldn't matter what Digg thought, Oliver told himself, and yet somehow it did. Even with their recent estrangement, John Diggle's opinion counted, particularly when it came to his life with Felicity.

As remarkable as Oliver felt his relationship with Felicity to be, there were times when he thought the most amazing relationship of all to emerge from Team Arrow (and he couldn't believe he was calling it that) was the one between John Diggle and Felicity Smoak. They were two people who should never have met. Diggle, formerly Special Forces in the military, was perceptive, stoic and blunt, sometimes to the point of brusqueness - perfect qualities for a man working security. Felicity was youthful, displayed her emotions at the drop of a hat, and had a mouth that often ran away from her. On the surface, they were opposites.

Yet, when it came to the fundamentals they were more alike than different. Both were loyal, smart and practical, able to see situations with their heads _and_ their hearts. They had aligned in all the big decisions the team had had to make over the last three years, agreeing with each other more often than they agreed with Oliver. It hadn't escaped his notice that every time he left – right after the Undertaking, when his mother was killed, when he went to Nanda Parbat – Felicity and Diggle had come together, in part to develop a plan but in part, too, just to support one another. Despite his recent closeness with Felicity, he was pretty sure Diggle knew things about her that she hadn't yet told him.

And he had no doubt that the two of them loved each other fiercely with a love that didn't fit into any convenient category. It was closer than friendship, yet not really familial. The last memory Oliver had of Nanda Parbat was of the two of them, leaning into each other when they thought they were going to die. Felicity hadn't chosen to die next to Palmer – she had chosen John Diggle.

And Oliver had no doubt whose side Diggle would come down on if his relationship with Felicity ever went south. He hoped he never had to find out.

He watched Digg, still looking carefully around the bungalow.

"You have something to say, John?"

Diggle turned to look at him. "Not really, Oliver. I'm just a little surprised. It's very…domestic."

"And that's bad?"

Diggle shook his head, "No – the opposite. For a pair of adrenaline junkies like the two of you, it's very good. I was thinking you'd be out chasing criminals in Coast City after a couple of days. I'm glad to see you're taking time to get to know one another when it isn't a 'world in peril' situation."

Oliver frowned, "A _pair_ of adrenaline junkies?"

"Yeah, Oliver, a pair. Surely you've figured that out about Felicity by now. That she doesn't mind – hell, she _likes_ putting herself out there every bit as much as you do? The only difference is you do - or did – it on the streets of the Glades and she does it in the cyberworld."

Oliver doubted that could be true. "John, you know as well as I do that I dragged her into all of it. If it hadn't been for me, she'd be living with some nice, normal guy and… "

"She'd be bored," Diggle finished for him. He stared hard at Oliver. "I knew you'd do this – blame yourself for Felicity being kidnapped. Stop it now, Oliver. It's not doing you or her any good. And it's not true. Felicity did her hacktivism thing in college years before she ever met you, and she was investigating some pretty dangerous stuff for Walter Steele before she knew you were the Arrow. And who did she end up with when she finally decided to start dating? A guy who wants to save the world in a high-tech suit. No, Felicity likes the fight every bit as much as you do. And right now, that's a good thing."

Oliver was having a hard time seeing that. "A good thing because?"

Digg smiled for the first time since he'd arrived. "Maybe I've seen it more than you because I've been in the foundry with her when you were out on the streets, but she handles pressure pretty damn well. Better than a lot of soldiers I've served with. She gets this eerie, focused calm and she figures out what to do. And, my guess is she's doing that right now. And it's a good thing because it's going to keep her alive until we can find her."

* * *

 

The car at last came to a stop. As she lay blindfolded on the back seat, Felicity wasn't sure whether she should be relieved or worried. Based on the earlier conversation of her two kidnappers, she'd so far learned that they were working for someone else and neither had insight into the real reason for her abduction. Their boss, whoever he was, was planning to meet them at this location. He knew something about her, because he'd told her abductors to keep her away from computers.

The optimist in her said that maybe this would all be over quickly – she'd perform some kind of complicated hack for the Boss and then be back with Oliver. The realist said _dream on_.

She tried to guess the length of time they'd been driving. Based on the time she could figure out the approximate distance of this location from the bungalow. The information alone wouldn't help her escape, but it might come in handy and it gave her something to focus on other than the very real possibility that she may never see Oliver again. It had seemed like a horribly long drive – at least three hours – but she had a feeling that was way off. Time always slowed when you were dreading something. Sitting in the dentist's waiting room, for example, always felt like days to her.

She heard the back door of the car open. She didn't move, unsure of kidnap victim protocol. In all the movies she'd watched, the victim always sat like a useless lump until the kidnapper barked out an order.

Sure enough, the older kidnapper with the nondescript accent said sharply, "Let's go. It's time to take a walk."

Keeping her voice as non-confrontational as possible, she replied, "Can you take off the blindfold now? I'm not too good on my feet when I can't see anything."

Older Kidnapper snorted, "And let you figure out where you are? I don't think so."

Felicity decided this one wasn't worth arguing. She sat up gingerly, then slid slowly across the car seat toward the open door. She gasped when someone suddenly grabbed her legs and quickly pulled her out of the car and into a standing position. Apparently kidnap victim protocol included moving quickly when ordered to do so.

"I said, let's go!" Older Kidnapper clutched her none-too-gently around the upper arm and started walking, pulling her alongside him. She began to follow, but had only taken a few steps when she felt something sharp bite into the bottoms of both bare feet. She cried out, before she could help it. She tried another few steps but the pain only got worse.

"Aww, Jeez, man," Young Kidnapper said, "you just walked her through a bunch of broken glass. Look at her feet!"

"She'll get over it," Older Kidnapper replied, confirming Felicity's opinion that if she were to hold an asshole-of-the-year contest between her two captors, Older Kidnapper would definitely win. She had a sneaking suspicion that Young Kidnapper might agree. Even without seeing their faces, she was sensing a little tension between the two men.

This suspicion was reinforced when Young Kidnapper persisted, "What happened to _don't hurt her_? First you hit her on the beach and now you cut up her feet. Hell she's bleeding all over the place."

Oh great, Felicity thought, pretty soon I'm going to have to pee, too.

Older Kidnapper said nonchalantly, "He meant don't seriously hurt her. None of this is life-threatening. And you weren't so taken with her when she clocked you with that bucket."

"She was just defending herself."

There was a long pause. Felicity imagined her two captors staring at each other.

"Don't tell me," Older Kidnapper said slowly, "that you're developing a thing for the pretty blonde. She's off limits."

"I know that," Young Kidnapper said defensively, "I just want to obey orders. He must've said three times _don't hurt her._ "

"Well," Older Kidnapper replied, "If he's really pissed off I was thinking of blaming this on you. Between the two of us, who do you think he's going to believe? I've been working with him for years. You're the new guy."

Felicity couldn't help herself. Even while she knew it was a bad idea, she blurted out, "Yeah, because the kidnapping victim can't hear or talk either. I could back him up."

Older Kidnapper shook her arm. "Not a good idea. There are worse accidents that can happen if you don't shut up. You could fall down the stairs trying to escape. Maybe get hit by a car. I'd stay out of this, if I were you."

"Got it," Felicity said, "shutting up now. But I'm not sure how well I can walk. You may not believe me, but this really hurts."

Another pause. She assumed they were back to staring at each other.

Then Young Kidnapper said in a gentler voice, "Here, I can carry you inside. We'll look at your feet once we get there."

And Felicity felt herself suddenly airborne, then thrown lightly over the shoulder of Young Kidnapper. Her head and arms dangled down his back and his arm pinned her legs firmly against his chest. Perhaps it was the blood rushing to her head, but she couldn't help but think how things often came in three's. This was the third time today she'd been carried over someone's shoulder. The first time had been by Oliver when she hadn't gotten out of bed fast enough. That had been sexy as hell. The second time was after she had been struck on the beach. Her head had been spinning and she hadn't remembered all that much. And this time…this time with her eyes blindfolded and her feet burning was something she'd just as soon forget. She was was dizzy and in pain. And she was pretty sure her sundress barely covered her ass.

Her kidnappers lapsed into silence as they walked. Wherever they were going, it seemed to take forever; the echoes of footfalls suggested they were passing through a cavernous space and there was the occasional sound of a door opening and closing. Being carried half upside down and blindfolded was horribly disorienting. At one point it seemed like they might be moving upstairs and the change in Young Kidnapper's posture caused Felicity to feel as though she were going to fall on her head. To her embarrassment, she found herself clutching desperately at his belt with her bound hands, brushing his backside as she did so. She mumbled a brief, "Sorry," but he only laughed and replied softly, "Any time." He sounded like he meant it.

At last she felt herself being tipped upright and gently seated onto something soft. Wherever she was, it felt cool and a little damp.

"Can we take her blindfold off now?" Young Kidnapper asked.

"Sure," Older Kidnapper replied. "She can't tell where she is and she's already seen us, anyway."

And suddenly the light was glaring and she was squinting up at two forms standing in front of her.

"Here," Young Kidnapper said, "you might want these."

He pulled her glasses out of his shirt pocket and awkwardly placed them on her face.

"Thanks," Felicity mumbled, shifting uncomfortably on her seat. As things came into focus she studied her surroundings. She hadn't been sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this.

She was in a restroom – a big, public-style restroom. A men's room, if the urinals were any indication. It wasn't fancy – no elegant, marbled tile or brass fixtures. It looked more like her high school restroom, with tiny, dull grey tiles on the floor and dingy, off-white paint on the walls. There were stalls and a line of sinks, not precisely dirty but not exactly clean either. Her captors had placed her on a cot in one corner. Although strange, she had to admit to the wisdom of their choice. There were no windows, the walls and door looked solid, and judging by the quiet, the place was pretty sound-proof. At least, she thought, I don't have to worry anymore if I have to pee.

Her gaze shifted to her captors. Sure enough, Young Kidnapper really did look young – about Roy's age and coloring, but heavier. She could see how he lifted her so easily – he was mostly muscle but had a thickening around the middle that might turn into a belly if he wasn't careful. He was gazing at her kindly, although maybe a little creepily. His look reminded her vaguely of that lacrosse player in college – the one for whom she had eventually needed a restraining order.

Older Kidnapper was lean and dark. He didn't exactly look mean, but he didn't look kind either. This was just a job for him, Felicity guessed. He'd do his best not to hurt her because those were his orders, but she had no doubt that he'd kill her if things started to go wrong.

To her surprise, neither of them appeared to carry a gun.

"Is there something I can call you guys?" Felicity asked. "I mean I can't keep calling you Older Kidnapper and Young Kidnapper."At their bemused looks she added, "at least, that's what I've been calling you in my head for the last couple hours. You do have names, right?"

Older Kidnapper shook his head. "I think it's best if we leave off the names."

Felicity sighed,"Okay. They didn't have to be your real names, you know. I just wanted to stop thinking about the word _kidnapper_. It's not exactly a positive thought for someone in my position."

Young Kidnapper laughed as if he couldn't help himself. "I can see why Queen likes you. You must be fun to have around." He paused and stared, "And you're not hard to look at, either."

Once again, he sounded sincere.There was an uncomfortable pause as the three of them eyed each other. Felicity shifted on the cot, grimacing as her feet touched the floor.

"Here, let me take a look at those," and Young Kidnapper knelt down in front of her.

He carefully took hold of one of her heels and raised her foot to examine it. Felicity winced. Even just flexing her foot hurt and, judging by the quantity of blood on his hands, the bottoms of her feet had been cut pretty badly. He probed the sole gently with his thumbs, then shook his head. "I can't tell if there's still any glass in there. Too much blood."

He glanced around the restroom and noticed a bucket in a corner. "We can fill that and rinse them off."

"Um," Felicity hesitated, "maybe that's not such a good idea? Not that I'm not grateful, but that bucket looks kind of dirty. Unless you've got bandages and Bacitracin, maybe we should just leave them as is. Blood naturally cleanses a wound. I don't know who's coming for me, but I'm guessing he won't be happy about a bacterial infection."

Young Kidnapper frowned, "I don't think he's going to be happy when he sees this either. I'd rather clean you up." He gave her calf a gentle squeeze then stood up and glared at Older Kidnapper. "There's plenty of time before the Boss gets here. Why don't you pick up some first aid supplies and I can take care of her feet?"

Older Kidnapper glared back before responding sarcastically, "I didn't realize you were in charge now. And what were you planning on doing while I'm out running errands for you?"

"I'll wait here with her," Young Kidnapper said, as if it were the obvious course of action.

Older Kidnapper looked at his younger partner and then shifted his gaze to Felicity's tumbled blonde hair and smooth, bare legs. Felicity could almost see the possibilities and consequences turning over in his mind. "I don't think so. _I'll_ wait here and you can pick up the first aid stuff."

Neither spoke for a moment. It was clear Young Kidnapper didn't like that idea but couldn't think of a good enough objection.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly, "but you're going to have to tell me where there's a drug store."

Older Kidnapper gave him a _you've got to be kidding me_ look.

They appeared to be at a stalemate.

Please, Felicity thought, why don't you both go? She almost said it aloud.

"I suppose," Older Kidnapper said, "we can both go."

_Hallelujah_ , Felicity thought.

Young Kidnapper looked down at Felicity. "You think it's okay to leave her here alone?"

Older Kidnapper nodded, "I think it's better than leaving her here with you. Anyway, no one can hear her and this place is locked up tight."

"What about Queen?" Young Kidnapper asked.

Older Kidnapper shook his head. "We made sure he didn't follow us and he's not bright enough to track us. He's probably telling his story to some cop right about now. He's a useless pretty boy. Not an issue."

Felicity almost smiled.

"I don't know," Young Kidnapper said, almost wistfully. "He looked like he wanted to rip our heads off on the beach. And he's smart enough to have gotten _her_ as his girlfriend. She doesn't seem like the type to fall for a complete idiot."

Older Kidnapper groaned, "God, you sound like a pathetic schoolboy. Let's go get the first aid stuff and clean her up. The Boss'll be here before we know it." And without a backward glance he walked out of the restroom. Young Kidnapper gave Felicity an apologetic smile and followed. She heard the sharp click of the lock immediately after.

She had managed to catch her first break.

She waited, counting in her head to sixty, then stood up gingerly on her tender feet. She walked carefully to the restroom door and knelt down to peer under it. The coast looked clear.

Felicity didn't think too often these days about her childhood in Las Vegas. It hadn't been a bad childhood, other than her father leaving, but life in Starling was worlds away from the one she had grown up in and she rarely waxed nostalgic about the casinos and the gamblers. So it had surprised her that in this time of crisis, dangling upside down over Young Kidnapper's shoulder, she had recalled one of the early lessons her mother had taught her on the Vegas strip. A lesson about the foibles of men, half warning and half boast about the power a woman could wield. A lesson about how men's brains often stopped functioning when confronted with a young, attractive woman and how such women, bumping and brushing against men on the streets managed to walk away with wallets, keys and other valuables completely undetected.

She hadn't been sure it would work as Young Kidnapper carried her up those stairs but dammit, Mom had been right, and it had succeeded brilliantly.

Felicity looked down at the cot. In the place where she had been sitting, Young Kidnapper's cell phone, formerly located in his back pocket, now cheerfully blinked the time. She was mildly interested to note that about three hours had indeed elapsed since her abduction. Her sense of time was better than she thought.

And speaking of time, she didn't think she had much before her kidnappers returned. Picking up the phone, she got to work.


	4. Chapter 4

"Amanda confirmed that Slade Wilson is still in his cell on Lian Yu," Lyla's voice said clearly over Oliver's cell phone speaker. "And Lance confirmed that Felicity's ex-boyfriend and the Clock King are still in prison, too."

"Thanks," John Diggle replied to his wife, "What about Merlyn?"

"Can't be sure if he's in Nanda Parbat, but there's been no sign of him coming into the country."

"Okay."

Oliver watched Diggle methodically cross three names off the list they had compiled: _Wilson, Cooper, Clock King_. Digg left a question mark next to Merlyn's name. He had worked kidnappings in the past when he was in private security and assured Oliver this was the most effective way of narrowing down the suspects. To Oliver's mind, it was much too slow. He hadn't believed earlier that any of the names now crossed off were likely to have abducted Felicity – all they'd accomplished so far was to verify what he already knew. He was certain they should be focused on Palmer Technologies and Felicity's new-found wealth.

Diggle's pen was poised over Nyssa's name and he was just opening his mouth to ask Lyla when Oliver interrupted abruptly, "Anything more on Palmer Technologies?"

Diggle looked at him but said nothing.

"Not yet," Lyla responded. "The stock is mainly held by institutional investors – you know, mutual funds, pension plans. There's no obvious next-largest shareholder who would benefit from Felicity forfeiting her shares."

"What about employees?" Oliver asked, his fingers beating a rapid rhythm on the counter next to the phone. "I've got to believe there's some pissed off 50-year old VP who thought he was next in line to be CEO."

"Laurel's looking into it," Lyla answered.

"Laurel's a criminal attorney and not a corporate one," Oliver snapped. "Did anyone think to ask Walter Steele? He's got the pulse of most of the major corporations in Starling."

"Oliver, Laurel's got Walter..." Lyla didn't get a chance to finish her sentence. A quick succession of beeps indicated another call was coming in. Oliver immediately hung up on Lyla to answer the new call.

"Yes?" He could hear the desperation in his own voice.

Apart from a crackle of static and a soft hiss, there was no response.

"Yes?" he repeated.

Another crackle and the call was dropped.

"Fuck!" Oliver closed his eyes briefly.

He looked at Diggle, "Do you think it was the kidnappers?"

"Did they hide the number?"

Oliver checked the call log. "No." It was a number he had never seen before.

Diggle shook his head, "Probably not the kidnappers. I don't think they'd give you something that could be traced."

"Cops?" Oliver asked.

"Did they leave a voicemail?"

Oliver looked at his phone, "No."

"Probably not the cops."

"Do you think," Oliver said slowly, hope beating in his chest, "that it could have been Felicity?"

Diggle hesitated, "I don't know, Oliver. If it was, then why didn't she say something?" After a second he added more positively, "I wouldn't put it past her to find a way to call, though."

"Think I should call back?"

They looked at each other. If it had been Felicity and his call let her captors know that she had reached them, it probably would not go well for her. On the other hand, if they could talk with her for even ten seconds, it might be enough time for her to tell them where she was or who took her. Oliver was rarely indecisive, but this was Felicity's life. The wrong move and she could be lost to him forever. He was pretty sure he saw the same uncertainty in John Diggle's eyes.

Digg inhaled slowly, "I don't think we should call. If she had to hang up, she probably didn't want whoever it was to know she was calling. I think we should have Cisco check out the phone number. Give it to the police as well."

Oliver nodded. He was picking up his phone to call Cisco, when it buzzed to signal an incoming text. At the same time, Diggle's phone chimed and Felicity's phone, still in the charger in a corner of the kitchen, vibrated energetically.

A quick series of text messages began to arrive:

_I'm ok. Dont know whr I am. Drove abt 2.5 hrs._

_Check my phne. Theres an app that can patch into this phne's GPS & track it. Look for grn & blck icon. _

_Feed it ths nmbr. I'm in a bathrm. 2 kidnprs so far but mre coming. Dont know who or why._

_Dont call ths nmbr. Cant keep phne. Love u. F._

There was a pause. Neither of them said anything – they looked at each other, scarcely daring to believe what had just happened.

Then John Diggle grinned suddenly, "That's our girl."

* * *

 

Felicity wasn't sure how much time she'd have before Young Kidnapper figured out that his phone was missing. If he were anything like her, he'd know it already. She typically got separation anxiety after just five minutes away from her phone.

When the call to Oliver was dropped she didn't bother trying a second time. The signal in the bathroom was weak and she figured she'd have a better chance at the text making it through. She hoped Oliver could figure out her phone tracking app. She assured herself that it was pretty self-explanatory and he wasn't a complete moron when it came to technology.

She had sent the text to Digg as well, trusting Oliver to let him know what was going on. Even though they hadn't patched things up, when she thought of all the people Oliver might ask for help there was really only one answer, and she didn't think it possible that John Diggle would refuse. She imagined the two of them sitting together, formulating a plan, and felt a tiny spark of happiness. If this kidnapping got the two of them talking, it would be a small silver lining in a very big cloud.

The only thing that remained was figuring out what to do with the phone. She'd eliminated all traces of her call and texts. A forensic expert could figure it out pretty quickly, but she doubted either of her kidnappers fit that bill. They didn't seem too interested in tech - the number of apps on Young Kidnapper's phone was surprisingly small. Apart from playing Angry Birds and a masochistic desire to follow the Oakland Raiders, it looked like he chiefly used his phone as a phone.

She knew she couldn't keep it. If they thought she'd gotten her hands on a phone and contacted anyone they would very likely move her. Likewise, if she destroyed it, Oliver wouldn't be able to track her. Her best bet was to place the phone someplace where Young Kidnapper would think he'd dropped it by accident, somewhere not accessible to her. The ideal outcome would be if he found it and just put it back into his pocket.

She lowered the ringer volume and walked to the bathroom door. She had a feeling that when she looked back on events days later, she was either going to consider this a wonderful idea or a brilliant mistake. Peering under the door, she looked for any indications of a shadow – a dark corner where a cell phone might fall unnoticed. She placed the phone on the floor, took a deep breath, then slid it as hard as she could out of the restroom and toward the darkness.

When she straightened up, she noticed that she'd left an obvious trail of bloody footprints leading from the cot to the door. Rather than try to remove them, she opted to limp painfully around the restroom, adding a series of prints leading to the sinks, a stall, and around the perimeter as if she'd been looking for escape options. She even availed herself of the toilet in one of the stalls because who knew when she'd have another opportunity? She then returned to sit on the cot. Things were once more out of her control and in the hands of fate.

She didn't have to wait too long. There were voices outside the door and the sound of a key being placed in the lock.

"You had it in the car…." Older Kidnapper was saying.

"Yes," Young Kidnapper agreed, as they walked in the door.

"So it's got to be around here somewhere."

Both of them stopped talking to stare at Felicity. Young Kidnapper's expression, which had been fairly gentle before, was clearly less benign now. She wondered if he'd figured out what she'd done and was angry with her – but too embarrassed or fearful to tell his partner.

"Stand up," Older Kidnapper ordered. There was nothing whatsoever gentle in _his_ tone.

She obeyed, standing up with dread. She had a pretty good idea what was coming next. Sure enough, Older Kidnapper walked up to her and began running his hands over her body, searching for the phone. His exploration was very thorough – he checked under her breasts and between her legs – and for the first time that day, she felt her eyes fill with tears.

He shook his head, "She doesn't have it."

Young Kidnapper looked relieved. "Try calling it again."

Older Kidnapper hit a button on his phone and they all listened. The sound was faint, but a cell phone could be heard somewhere outside the restroom door. Young Kidnapper stepped out, his eyes on the ground.

"Got it," he called from outside. He stepped back into the restroom. "It must have fallen out of my pocket when we got to the top of the stairs."

Felicity hoped her sigh of relief wasn't noticeable.

"Everything look okay?" Older Kidnapper asked.

"Yeah, it's fine." Young Kidnapper said, as he looked at Felicity at little more kindly. "Sorry about the search," he added softly, "Let's take care of your feet."

Felicity sat down as he began pulling gauze, bandages and hydrogen peroxide out of a white drug store bag. Fifteen minutes later her feet were cleaned, packed with gauze, and wrapped neatly in two ACE bandages. There was nothing more for any of them to do but wait – her kidnappers for their boss, and Felicity for Oliver, hoping he got there first.

* * *

 

John Diggle had talked Oliver out of taking the Porsche. Yes it had tremendous speed and power, but it lacked a back seat and trunk space and, more importantly, it was very conspicuous. Instead, he drove the beat-up sedan he had borrowed from the naval base. Oliver, who had agreed with Digg's reasoning reluctantly, now showed his displeasure by grinding his teeth each time the car failed to respond promptly to Digg's foot on the accelerator.

John Diggle, in return, had allowed Oliver to talk him out of calling the police with the phone number. He'd agreed that it was important to move quickly, and that answering a long list of questions for Detective Zimmer was not likely to help Felicity. Instead, he simply loaded the large duffle bag of weapons into the trunk and climbed behind the wheel when Oliver jumped into the passenger seat.

The two of them drove as quickly as the non-turbo-charged car would let them, Oliver with his eyes glued on Felicity's cell phone and her tracker app. The route took them on and then off the freeway, passing through residential areas followed by sections of relatively unpopulated space, always staying near the coast. They talked little - there really wasn't much to say. Until they knew what they were facing it seemed useless to discuss a detailed plan, and they'd quickly fallen into their old working routine. Diggle couldn't help but think how much could things could change in a very short time. Eight hours ago he'd been in his kitchen serving his daughter breakfast. Now, with the mid-afternoon sun slanting through the car windows, he was headed toward an unknown destination about to face unknown forces with Oliver. It felt familiar and oddly right.

"We're getting close," Oliver's voice interrupted his thoughts, "Felicity's app says we're only a mile or so away."

"Are you planning to carry your bow once we get there?" Digg asked. "You don't have the mask or the hood. Someone sees how well you can shoot that thing and they're going to put two and two together."

"What else did you bring?"

"A couple Glocks, some tranquilizer darts, whatever the cops didn't take from the foundry. Should be enough to get the job done."

"Hmm," Oliver didn't sound convinced.

"Maybe we should just decide when we get there," Diggle offered.

"Which should be," Oliver said, looking at Felicity's phone, "right about now."

Digg pulled over to the side of the road. "Oh hell."

They were next to some kind of industrial park - one that appeared to be deserted. There were no signs of people or cars, just several warehouses, each large enough to house a jumbo-jet, as well as a few tractor-trailers. It looked vast and empty, and the number of places to hide a petite, blonde hostage seemed infinite. Diggle exhaled in frustration and looked at Oliver. "Any ideas?"

Oliver pulled out his cell phone and tapped it fiercely.

"What are you doing?" Digg asked.

"Calling Barry," Oliver replied. "It could take us a day to search this place. Barry can do it in a minute."

It was a good idea. Diggle held his breath as seconds passed with Oliver holding the phone to his ear, a scowl growing on his face when there was no answer. Oliver hung up and tried again. Nothing. He swore softly then stared at Digg. It looked like they were on their own.

John Diggle stepped out of the car to study their surroundings, doing his best to think logically. The building closest to them was some kind of warehouse, five stories high. There was a padlock on the door, and most of the windows were covered from the inside, blocking visibility into the building. None of the other warehouses seemed nearly as well protected. He heard the passenger door shut gently as Oliver got out of the car to join him.

"I think it's this one," Digg stated.

"Why?" Oliver asked.

"It's the only building that looks like it has something to hide."

Oliver stared at the building then said slowly, "Well, it's consistent with Felicity's tracker app. But it's huge. Even this one building could take us a couple of hours to search."

Diggle ran his hand over his short-cropped hair and thought about Felicity's texts. "She said she was being kept in a bathroom. Think about the warehouses you had at QC. Bathrooms are usually on the outside wall, often near the staircases."

"Yeah," Oliver said thoughtfully, "go on."

"We could split up," Digg suggested. "You start at the bottom floor, I'll start at the top. We go around the perimeter and check all the bathrooms. Felicity said there were only two guys holding her. Shouldn't be a problem for either one of us, unless more have showed up."

Oliver nodded, "We can stay connected by cell phone." "Right," Diggle agreed, then added, "I've got bolt cutters in the bag that can probably cut that lock. What do you want to take for a weapon?"

Oliver gazed briefly off into the distance. "I think you're right about the bow," he said reluctantly, "Without the rest of my gear, it's going to be tough to carry everything and keep my hands free. I'll take a Glock." He looked at Diggle more decisively and added, "If I think Felicity's at risk, I'm not holding back. I don't want to kill anyone, but if it's a choice between them or her, well…there is no choice. I hope you'll do the same."

"No question about it," Diggle agreed.

He opened the duffle and handed Oliver a gun and several extra clips. In addition to his Glock, Diggle opted to take a tranquilizer gun and a few darts. Despite what he'd said to Oliver, he preferred the idea of disabling the kidnappers to killing them if it were at all possible.

The padlock on the door cut fairly easily, and they moved silently into the building. To Diggle's relief, the layout looked exactly as he predicted – a lot of empty space in the middle with most of the rooms on the perimeter. He called Oliver's cell phone so that the two of them were connected, then dropped his phone into his pocket.

He looked at Oliver, "Ready?"

Oliver nodded, all signs of anxiety and frustration suddenly gone. Diggle felt relieved. He'd been afraid Oliver would not be able to focus with Felicity at risk, but this was Oliver in battle mode – determined, centered, ready for anything. Digg thought about Detective Zimmer's words from earlier that day and realized the truth in them. He would not want to be the kidnappers either, if Oliver were the one to find them first.

They reached the stairway and Diggle headed up while Oliver headed down. When he got to the top floor Digg began walking as quietly as possible around the outside corridor. There was no sign of anyone. He'd half hoped and half dreaded that there would be guards posted outside a door, something to show him clearly where Felicity was located. Instead, he was going to have to stick to the plan of checking the restrooms one at a time. He found the first one and pushed slowly on the door. It opened easily and he found it empty. He continued around the perimeter until he found a second one – also empty.

When he pushed on the third restroom door it didn't open. He pushed a little harder and it still didn't budge. He also thought he heard muffled voices inside. He didn't waste any time.

"Felicity?" Digg called out.

The answer was prompt, "I'm in here, John."

"Are you near the door?"

"No..," her response was cut off.

Without hesitation, Diggle aimed his Glock and shot out the lock, kicking in the door immediately after. Felicity was in a corner of the bathroom, getting slowly to her feet. There were two men with her, both of them looking a little startled. The slim, darker man was reaching toward what looked like an ankle holster on his right leg. Digg shot him with a tranquilizer dart, then switched back to his Glock and said, "I'd stop right now, if I were you."

The man took one look at John Diggle and obeyed. His stockier, younger partner made no effort at all, just raising his hands slowly in the air. The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds.

Felicity was hobbling toward him, her smile interspersed with occasional grimaces. Digg looked down and noticed that both her feet were wrapped in bandages. Apart from that, she looked remarkably good, her eyes clear and only a slight bruise on her face from where she'd been hit.

"What did they do to your feet?" Digg asked worriedly.

She shook her head slightly, "Nothing that can't be fixed. It's a long story that we can save for the drive out of here. Their boss," she inclined her head toward the two men, "and God knows who else are supposed to arrive at any time. I suggest we leave."

Diggle nodded. The tranquilizer was beginning to take effect on the slim, dark kidnapper. His scowl had turned into a slightly vacant look and he slowly sank from his standing position to the floor, his back propped up against the wall. He appeared completely uninterested in his surroundings. Diggle looked at his younger partner and quickly shot him with a tranq dart as well.

Felicity looked at Digg and raised her eyebrows.

"Keep him from calling in the reinforcements," Digg explained.

She nodded, started toward the door and then stopped. "Do you have your phone? Can you take their picture?"

Digg could feel his brow furrow. "Run that by me again?"

"For facial recognition software – so I can check the databases when we get back. I still don't know who they are or why they took me."

Diggle smiled. Trust Felicity to think of grabbing photos of her abductors. He pulled out his phone and took the kidnappers' pictures. "Got 'em. Let's go."

Felicity took one last, quick look at the two men then walked out the door with Digg right behind her. Less than two minutes had elapsed.

They started down the hallway. Now that he'd recovered Felicity, Diggle was anxious to catch up with Oliver and get the hell out of this place. So far things had gone incredibly smoothly, but it could all change if they ran into any more kidnappers. He tried to pick up the pace, but Felicity was moving slowly and clearly wincing with every step. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Here, I can carry you, it'll be faster."

She frowned, "You're not going to toss me over your shoulder, are you? It's another long story, but I think I've had as much of that today as I can take. I'd like to keep my head right-side-up for a change."

Diggle paused. Carrying her over his shoulder was, in fact, exactly what he'd been planning to do. It would allow him to keep one hand free for his gun.

He was opening his mouth to explain that to her when he looked at Felicity's hopeful face and sighed, "Fine. Not over the shoulder. But you'll have to carry the Glock. Are you prepared to shoot someone with it?"

"Probably not, but you have my permission to drop me if it comes to that."

"Deal." 

He chuckled, handed her the gun, then scooped her up and started down the corridor.

* * *

 

In the basement of the warehouse, Oliver heard Digg's voice over his cell phone say _'Felicity?'_ followed almost immediately by a gunshot. He didn't bother to listen any further, just ran down the hallway and headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that he hadn't heard any additional shots. He didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

He burst out of the doorway on the top floor and looked across the large and mostly empty space in front of him. His heart soared when he saw Felicity's blonde head in the distance next to Digg's, then plummeted when he realized that Digg was carrying her and something must be wrong. He sprinted toward them, not even checking for signs of the kidnappers.

As he got near, he felt some reassurance when Felicity looked at him and smiled, no sign of pain or fear on her face. Things got even better when Diggle wordlessly handed her over, and she put her arms around his neck and her lips to his ear and said softly, "I'm okay, Oliver." He clasped her tight against his chest and felt like he could breathe normally for the first time that day. He kissed the top of her head lightly and smiled back.

Diggle cleared his throat, "We should get out of here. I tranq'ed the two guys that were holding her, but Felicity says more are expected to arrive."

Oliver nodded, and the three of them headed down the stairs, Felicity in his arms with her face pressed lightly into his shoulder. Every now and then she'd squeeze his arm or the back of his neck as if to convince herself that it really was him. Oliver understood that perfectly. They exited the building into the bright sunlight and headed toward the car. After everything that had happened, it was hard to believe it was still the same day. Oliver felt like he had lived at least two lifetimes in less than twelve hours.

An SUV pulled up just as they were getting into their car. Oliver thought briefly about trying to subdue and interrogate the passengers, but there were four men and what appeared to be a decent amount of firepower in the SUV. Instead he quickly shot out a tire, then literally threw Felicity in the back seat of their car and jumped in next to her.

"Drive!" he ordered Digg. They pulled away, tires squealing.


	5. Chapter 5

No one spoke as they sped away from the warehouse. Diggle kept the gas pedal to the floor and concentrated on a route that would get them away from the deserted industrial park and back to a more populated area. Oliver spent close to a half an hour watching for any sign of the kidnappers. Once Digg felt confident that they were out of immediate danger, he risked letting his eyes wander from the road to the rearview mirror and his two companions in the back seat. Things had gone down pretty quickly in the warehouse and he was concerned that Felicity might have suffered more injuries than she had let on. He was also, if he were honest with himself, interested to see Oliver and Felicity together as a couple. He had seen them in many similar situations over the last couple of years, always circling each other but never connecting, their mutual affection apparent to Digg if not to them. Now that they'd let the barriers down, he couldn't help but wonder how they'd act with each other.

Given all she'd been through, Felicity looked remarkably calm. She was seated next to Oliver, the entire side of her body pressed against his, one hand resting on his thigh. Her contentment at being with him was evident – she seemed to draw strength simply from his presence and his touch. She tapped her fingers nervously on his leg from time to time, but there were no signs of major anxiety. If she'd experienced any adrenaline rush during her rescue, she'd clearly come down from it.

Oliver, on the other hand, was just about vibrating in his seat. Had they been in the foundry, Diggle thought, he would be pummeling a dummy at this point. Instead, with his tall frame confined by the small space of the car he alternated between looking out the window for pursuers, examining Felicity with worry and concern, and – oddly enough - trying to do something with his phone. Digg watched as he swiped his finger impatiently over the screen, searching for some kind of information and exhaling in frustration when he didn't find it. Finally he shook his head and handed the phone to Felicity.

"Here, you look."

Felicity replied in a puzzled voice, "Look for what?"

"The closest hospital."

"Hospital?" Her voice rose and she quickly reached out with both hands to turn Oliver's face towards her. "What happened? Where are you hurt?"

Oliver shook his head, his expression a peculiar combination of tenderness and exasperation. "Not for me, Felicity," he snorted, "for you! Your feet..."

"Are not that bad," Felicity finished, letting go of Oliver's face and sitting back. "They just got cut up on some glass. I've got a first aid kit at the bungalow with sutures and a topical anesthetic. I don't need a hospital. John can fix me up when we get back to the beach." Her eyes met Digg's in the rearview mirror and he smiled slightly.

"Felicity…," Oliver began, clearly ready to launch his objection.

She didn't give him the chance. "Oliver," she said a little sharply, "It's been a really tough day. I've been hit, carried, and locked up by a couple of strangers for reasons I still don't know. I don't think I can take being handled by doctors and having to make up answers to a bunch of questions. I promise you, I'm fine. I just want to go home with you and John."

 _Home_ , Diggle thought, she thinks of that bungalow they share as home. That happened fast.

Oliver opened his mouth as if to argue further, but then appeared to think better of it. "Fine," he conceded shortly, but then softened his words by stroking her cheek and pushing a few strands of hair behind her ear. "No hospital." He kissed her forehead and turned to resume his watch out the car window. Felicity smiled at him gratefully. It wasn't at all like Oliver to give in so easily, Diggle thought. He wondered if this rapid accord was the result of their newfound status as a couple or if Oliver were simply regrouping.

He didn't have to wait long to find out. After a mile or two, Oliver took a deep breath. "Felicity," he said gently and, to Digg's mind, a little too casually, "we can't go back to the bungalow."

Diggle raised his eyebrows. This was not something they had discussed.

Felicity's voice was a little less casual when she replied, "Why not?"

Oliver kept staring out the window, refusing to look at her. "Because," he explained, "it's the first place they're going to come to try to kidnap you again. They're probably planning it already." He sighed, "Why do you think they aren't following us?"

"Because you shot out their tire?"

Oliver laughed, but Digg was pretty sure he heard some tension in it, "Maybe. But it's more likely they're going to try a second time, probably with extra people and weapons." He turned from the window to face her, "We still don't know who they are and why they took you. We have to assume you remain a target."

Felicity nodded. "Yes we do," she agreed, matter-of-factly, "and that's exactly why we should go back to the bungalow."

"Come again?" There was no mistaking the tension in Oliver's voice this time. He was gearing up for an argument.

And Felicity heard it. She sat a little straighter and lifted her chin, classic signals of Felicity gearing up in return. "Look," she pressed, "we're going to have to figure this out sooner or later. I can't hide or keep looking over my shoulder for the next ten years. When they came this morning we weren't expecting it. I was alone on the beach, not really dressed for a kidnapping…" she paused, but when Oliver didn't smile she continued, "If they come to the bungalow again, I won't be alone - you and John will be ready. You can grab them and we can get some answers. It's the fastest way to get resolution. You know that if this involved anyone other than me, it's exactly what you'd do."

There was a long pause and Diggle risked another glance in the mirror. Felicity and Oliver were staring at each other, Felicity with a determined expression on her face and Oliver with an outright glare. Digg almost laughed – he was beginning to feel as if he were back in the foundry. Maybe Felicity and Oliver in love hadn't changed things all that much.

Oliver backed down first.

"Fine," he responded reluctantly, "we go back to the bungalow. But when we get there, you're going to do exactly what John or I tell you to do. No heroics."

Felicity smiled, "Of course not."

Diggle turned on the car lights as dusk arrived and continued driving. Round 1 goes to Felicity, he thought.

* * *

 

The man stared at his two employees lying on the floor of the bathroom. Both looked up at him with goofy grins, clearly still under the influence of some kind of drug. He shook his head.

He'd known Queen would come after her. He just didn't think he'd find her that quickly. After nearly a month of having the couple watched, he'd figured that taking her during the morning run was the best option. Queen wouldn't have a weapon and Felicity wouldn't have any tech on her. It should have been simple. Once his men grabbed her and got away too quickly for Queen to follow, it would create enough of a window for him to arrive, talk to the girl, and hopefully convince her to leave with him. But apparently that plan had broken down.

His men seemed competent enough. The younger one was fairly new, but had carried out all his prior jobs without incident. The older one had served him well for years. So why were both of them drugged on the floor and their hostage now miles away?

"What happened?" he asked.

The older one just shrugged, barely able to keep his eyes open. The young one assumed a lopsided smile.

"Big guy shot out the lock and grabbed her," he slurred. "He shot us with something, too. Not sure what, but I don't feel so good." He paused, then added, "She's awfully pretty. Nice, too. I hope you aren't going to do something bad to her." He looked up earnestly, "Am I going to get to see her again?"

Despite his frustration, the man almost chuckled. "You liked her," he stated.

"I did," the kid replied. "Bill here," he nodded toward his colleague, "was mean to her. When I lost my phone he even accused her of taking it." He shook his head drunkenly, "But she didn't. I had dropped it outside."

The man paused thoughtfully, "You lost your phone? Can I see it?"

"Sure," and the kid pulled it out of his pocket and handed it up to him.

He swept his finger over the phone, looking at the calls and texts. There was nothing obvious in the logs. He dug a little deeper and sure enough... He smiled, he couldn't help it. He'd known she was brilliant when it came to technology. It was why he'd insisted they keep her away from anything electronic. Who would have thought she could show some street smarts as well? He stared at his two men lying disabled on the floor, bested by a girl who looked like she was barely old enough to order a drink. It was time to come up with an alternate plan.

* * *

 

Diggle steered the car up the ramp and onto the freeway, the sky now completely dark. Relative peace had resumed in the back seat once they had made the decision to return to the bungalow. Oliver clasped Felicity's hand with their fingers entwined and looked at her fondly. Felicity seemed spent, but in a relaxed way. Her eyes closed drowsily from time to time, yet she managed a small smile for Oliver whenever his gaze rested upon her. Oliver had asked her a few questions about her kidnappers, but once she'd explained that they'd divulged no information about their boss and that she'd taken their photos for facial recognition, he'd gone quiet.

A little too quiet, Digg thought. He swore he could hear the wheels turning in the man's brain. He waited for it and sure enough…

"Felicity," Oliver said, "why didn't you tell me about Palmer Technologies?"

Oh Oliver, Diggle thought, now is not the time.

He shook his head and said, "Oliver, I don't think ..." while Felicity simultaneously said, "What about Palmer Technologies?"

Oliver ignored Digg and kept going, "Felicity, with Ray gone you're the principal shareholder and CEO of the corporation." He paused, then added a little sourly, "That's kind of a big thing not to have told me."

Felicity's voice was small when she responded, "I didn't know. He left me the company?"

She didn't know. Diggle sighed in relief – one argument averted, he thought. At least Oliver can see she wasn't keeping secrets.

Oliver, however, was not so easily appeased. He let go of her hand and turned to face her. "How could you not know? You must have had to sign some kind of agreement."

Felicity said slowly, "Ray had me sign a lot of things."

"And being given control of the company along with a relatively large fortune in stock didn't stick out in your mind? I assume you read everything?"

She shook her head, "Not necessarily. Sometimes we were in a hurry. Sometimes the documents were godawful long. I trusted Ray."

"Felicity!" Oliver snapped, "You're supposed to be smarter than that. How could you just sign something without reading it, especially something this important? Do you understand that this may be the reason you were kidnapped? If we'd known about it, we could have been prepared. Instead, I had to learn today from the police that my girlfriend is one of the wealthiest women on the west coast." His voice rose with every sentence, until he was nearly shouting.

Felicity pushed away from him on the car seat, all signs of drowsiness gone. Her face flushed and her own voice rose as she said incredulously, "You called the _police_? You saw me get taken and you waited to talk to them, you were going to rely on _them_ to find me?"

Oliver opened his mouth and then shut it again, clearly caught short by the new direction the argument was taking. "It was John's idea," he said more quietly.

 _Thank you, Oliver_. Digg did his best to avoid Felicity's eyes in the rearview mirror. He was pretty sure she wasn't looking at him with kindness. And how had he gotten dragged into this anyway? Usually he and Felicity were tag-teamed against Oliver.

"And we weren't going to _rely_ on the police," Oliver resumed, "We thought they had better access to data. Without you to run the tech…"

Felicity just looked at him.

" _Anyway_ ," Oliver went on, finding his bluster again, "this isn't about the police. This is about a supposedly brilliant woman signing contracts without reading them. Contracts with huge repercussions. Felicity…I don't even know what to say," he ended indignantly.

There was a long pause.

"I think," Felicity said carefully, an angry tremor in her voice, "that I shouldn't be getting lectures on contract management from a man who handed his entire company and fortune over to Isabel Rochev with some chicken scratch on a legal pad. Ray, at least, was a good man. You knew Isabel was evil and you did it anyway."

The two of them glared at each other, each not giving an inch. For half a minute the only sound in the car was the hum of the tires on the road. Oliver exhaled. "Fine," he agreed, "no more lectures. But when we start our research tomorrow I think first priority should be with the board and VP's at Palmer. We know someone there has a motive."

Felicity nodded, the flush fading from her cheeks. "Good idea," she agreed. She sat back on the seat and, after a moment, slid close to Oliver once more. She rested her hand on his thigh and squeezed gently.

Round 2 to Felicity.

* * *

 

Detective Zimmer hung up the phone. He was sure Oliver Queen was hiding something – the story seemed too good to be true and was a little short on details. The guy had called five minutes ago to say that his wife – no, make that _girlfriend_ – was back. Somehow that young, slender blonde girl had managed to get away from two grown men and called to let them know of her whereabouts. Queen had been so excited that he'd raced off with his friend to pick her up, not thinking to call the police until she'd been safely recovered. They were headed back to the cottage now.

Queen had also made it clear that the girl knew nothing about who took her and that coming to interview her this evening would be a waste of time. She was exhausted, he'd emphasized, and what she needed most was a good night's sleep and not an interrogation. He hadn't been too gentle on that point.

Zimmer ran his fingers through what was left of his hair and pondered his unexpected good fortune. On the one hand, he didn't believe Queen for a minute. On the other, he was tired, overworked, and an all-nighter had suddenly dissolved into an opportunity to go home on time, have a glass of wine with the missus, and get a decent night's sleep. He weighed investigating his suspicions of Queen against the prospect of a peaceful night at home.

Home won. He turned off his desk lamp and headed for the door. The interrogation could wait until morning.

* * *

 

"I don't think Zimmer will be bothering us this evening," Oliver said, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He rested his hand on top of the one Felicity had placed on his thigh and squeezed gently. "We should be on our own."

"Thank you," Felicity replied, "I really am not up to talking with him. It's been a hell of a day."

They were off the freeway and passing through the small town nearest to the bungalow. Despite her words, Felicity appeared to have perked up considerably.

"Are either of you guys hungry?" she asked suddenly. "I'm starved. I haven't eaten all day."

Oliver grunted noncommittally while Digg at the same time said, "I could use something to eat."

"Great," she replied, ignoring Oliver's lack of enthusiasm. "Oliver, can you hand me my phone? I'll call Napoli's and order something for delivery. I think they'll still be open. You'll love it - it's the best Italian food around," she explained to Digg.

"Felicity," Oliver said, "maybe we should lay low for a little while. I'm not sure it's a good idea for everyone to see us having food delivered to the bungalow. We could keep them guessing about our location for at least one night."

She frowned. "We have to eat," she said reasonably, "and unless you're planning to go shopping and cook us a hot meal, it's our best bet. Oliver, I need real food – cereal isn't going to cut it."

Oliver sighed and, to Digg's surprise, didn't even put up a fight, "Fine. Call Napoli's."

Round 3. The woman was formidable.

 

She smiled and made the call. She was just finishing their order with a "thanks, Mike" when they pulled up near the bungalow. Oliver lifted her from the car, cradling her carefully. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him below the ear and whispered, "I love you" softly. And instantly any disagreement they may have had during the drive was forgotten. Oliver was beaming at her with a look Diggle had never before seen on his face, and Felicity was beaming back. And this was the difference, Digg thought, with the two of them as a couple. In many ways they acted exactly as they had before in the foundry, but this …this was the big change. The only word he could think of was joy.

As they walked to the bungalow, Digg also had to admit to a slightly more petty satisfaction. It was good to know that even the almighty Arrow, like most men, could be defenseless when confronted with the strong will of the woman he loved. _Welcome to the human race, Oliver._


	6. Chapter 6

Oliver had wanted to call Lyla and review the list of employees from Palmer Technologies as soon as they got back to the bungalow. Felicity and John, however, talked him out of it. It was late and they were tired, they reasoned, not in a good state to make rational decisions about likely suspects. Showers and food were the order of the day, along with taking care of Felicity's feet. They could start on the list in the morning. Oliver knew better than to argue – when Felicity and Diggle teamed up he very seldom got his way.

He ignored Felicity's puzzled look when he gave up his usual practice of showering with her. As much as he wanted to examine every inch of her skin to make sure she truly was unharmed, he felt uncomfortable exposing some of their more intimate habits to John. For several years the three of them had been a well-oiled unit, anticipating each other's moves and covering each other's backs. He wasn't ready to impose the new dynamic of their relationship on the team. That is, if they were to be a team again. He and John hadn't had a chance to discuss their own relationship today, and he was afraid that once the urgency was over, John would recall his very real grounds for anger toward Oliver. He had, after all, taken the man's wife hostage – what could he possibly say in his own defense?

And so the three of them found themselves sitting on the floor in clean clothes and with damp hair, their backs propped against the sofa, eating pizza and antipasto. Despite the long day and lack of food, Oliver didn't have much appetite. Felicity's kidnapping had surfaced a number of thoughts that he'd been able to keep buried over the last month, thoughts that he knew he'd need to face someday, just not this soon. If they were back in the foundry, he was pretty sure John would counsel him to talk about it. But he just couldn't bring himself to say anything.

The first thought haunting him was the realization that they were never going to be completely free from danger. He and Felicity both had histories that could not be ignored; there remained a handful of people who knew about his old identity as the Arrow, there was most definitely still a League of Assassins with Malcolm Merlyn in charge, and - as Digg had pointed out earlier in the day- Felicity had her own set of skills that the criminal element as well as law enforcement might covet. No matter where they went and what identities they assumed, the truth was the past could always catch up to them.

The second cloud over what should have been a joyful reunion was his recognition of the old axiom that happiness was indeed tenuous. He'd somehow gotten it into his head that he and Felicity were owed a break after all they'd been through - that they were entitled to a few months or even years of harmony after so much sacrifice. But life didn't work that way and today was a sharp reminder of that. A reminder that anything you loved could be taken away in an instant, whether by maliciousness, negligence or just plain bad luck. He'd lost so many people over the last eight years that he should have either developed immunity to loss or concluded that another relationship wasn't worth the risk. The Oliver of a year ago would certainly have avoided getting close to anyone. But the man he was now just wanted to cling to Felicity all the harder.

And finally, the most frightening and yet most wondrous thought of all, was coming to the realization of how deeply he loved her. He was not a man who had avoided love – there had been several women in his life that he would have said he loved – Laurel foremost among them. But he'd never gotten to the point where he couldn't imagine life without them, not the way he had today when Felicity went missing. Somehow, without consciously thinking about it, he had presumed he'd be with her for the rest of his life. This belief wasn't built on their last few weeks living together, or even the last year. Instead, it had grown over three years, cultivated by long days at Queen Consolidated and even longer nights in the foundry. He had always wanted her at his side, even when he had been too myopic to see that he loved her.

It was a lot to process.And so he picked at his pizza, sliding off the black olives Felicity liked so much and chewing absentmindedly.

Felicity, on the other hand, ate with gusto. Sitting between Oliver and Diggle, she almost radiated contentment despite the eight stitches John had had to sew on the bottom of her right foot. It seemed an odd reaction to being kidnapped. Oliver normally enjoyed her unpredictability – it was one of her many endearing traits – but tonight it was causing him worry. She had been through a traumatic experience and he wondered whether her cheer was forced, a means of avoiding dealing with all that had happened to her.

When she asked him with a bright smile if there were any pinot grigio left in the fridge, he decided it was time for an intervention. "Felicity," he asked softly, "are you sure you're alright? Not that I'm not happy to see you relaxed, but you seem to be taking this whole thing kind of lightly. Have you forgotten that there's someone still out there looking for you? Doesn't it worry you? Because no one would think less of you if it did."

She swallowed her pizza and turned to face him. Whatever flippant answer she had been planning to give disappeared when she saw the look on his face. "No," she replied soberly, "I haven't forgotten." She fingered the bruise on her right cheek and continued, "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't frightened today, most of all because I thought I might never see you again. But at this moment – right here, right now - I feel safe." She glanced between Oliver and Diggle, "And I'm with the two people who matter most to me in the world – well, maybe my mother fits in there somewhere – but you guys are my family and it feels really right for the three of us to be together again. Even if I wished we'd gotten together under different circumstances, I'm just happy to be with both of you."

Oliver didn't know how to reply to that. His eyes met Diggle's over Felicity's head, and he was pretty sure he saw John blink a couple of times. He pressed a light kiss to her temple while John reached out and patted her knee gently. There was a short and slightly awkward pause, then Felicity cleared her throat suddenly.

"But you know what," she continued in a brisker voice, "I think it probably is a good idea for me to get some rest. It was a tough day and I wouldn't want to have some kind of delayed breakdown, so I'm going to go to bed now." She gave them both a meaningful look. "It won't disturb me at all if you guys want to stay up and talk for a while. I'm sure you have a few things to discuss." It was fairly clear this was an order and not a suggestion.

Digg smiled briefly before saying, "I see you're still trying to moonlight as a relationship counselor, Felicity." He shrugged, "I was planning to stay up anyway to keep watch. One of us needs to. If Oliver wants to join me for a while…that's fine."

Felicity shook her head, "I'm glad you're willing to talk, but there's really no need to keep watch. I've got it covered." She slowly rose from the floor and limped over to retrieve her phone from the kitchen counter, her fingers tapping lightly on the device. "I've activated an alarm linked to some motion sensors outside. My phone's not super loud, but it should be enough to wake you if someone gets within twenty-five feet of the bungalow. Once you're done talking, feel free to go to sleep."

Oliver frowned, "You've got motion sensors set up around the bungalow? When did you do that?"

She paused thoughtfully, "A couple of weeks ago, I think."

His own internal alarm was beginning to sound. Why would Felicity set up perimeter security unless she suspected someone was watching her? Was there something about her abduction that she hadn't told him? "Felicity," he asked, his voice coming out harsher than he'd intended, "why didn't you tell me about this? If you didn't feel safe, if you thought someone was after you, why didn't you say?"

She flushed and stumbled over her reply, "I…Oliver, no...it wasn't for that reason. I didn't think anyone was after me. I installed the motion sensors after the..," she paused and suddenly began to examine her fingernails closely, "…after the, um, kitchen counter incident," she finished.

Oliver was perplexed, "Kitchen counter incident? Felicity, what are you talking abo..."

"You know," she interrupted, her cheeks transitioning from merely pink to brilliant scarlet, " _the kitchen counter incident_." She met his eyes for a long moment before returning her stare to her fingers. "Our property manager," she explained to John, "has a habit of walking in without knocking."

_Oh_ , thought Oliver, _that kitchen counter incident_. He wondered if his coloring matched Felicity's.

There was a brief silence.

"I heard a little bit about the property manager this morning," John said matter-of-factly.

"Anyway..," Felicity continued in a steadier voice, "I bought a few motion sensors and linked them to my phone through blue tooth." She looked at Oliver again, "It seemed like a good idea. There are a lot of other sturdy surfaces in the bungalow. You never know..." She stopped talking abruptly then shook her head, "This just keeps getting worse."

Despite his embarrassment, Oliver smiled. John developed a sudden interest in the last piece of pizza.

Felicity inhaled resolutely and placed her phone back on the counter. With the color still high in her cheeks, she walked to the bedroom, "And on that awkward note, I'm going to say goodnight. I hope you have a good talk." She closed the door behind her, leaving Oliver and Diggle alone, still seated on the floor.

Oliver cleared his throat and stared at his shoes. It was time to face the music.

"John," he said slowly, "I want to say thank you. I've wanted to say it all day, actually."

Digg shrugged, "Oliver, you know I'd do anything for Felicity."

"I do. But the irony of the situation is not lost on me. It must have crossed your mind, too."

"Irony?"

"A few months ago I put your wife in danger. Today you were willing to do whatever it takes to save mine."

"Your _wife_ , Oliver?" John's face wore a mildly amused smirk.

"You know what I mean."

"Actually, I'm not sure I do," John said. "The two of you make an interesting pair. I keep waiting to see you act like a normal couple, to hear nicknames like 'sweetie' or 'honey' when you talk to each other, but it still seems to be just 'Felicity' and 'Oliver.' And you guys argue up a storm, the same way you did in the foundry. Other than adding an apparently athletic sex life to the mix, I'm not sure anything has changed."

Oliver laughed, "I tried 'honey' and 'baby' a couple of times,' he admitted, "but it felt wrong. I've decided that 'Felicity' is its own term of endearment. As for the arguing, I don't think we'd be us if we didn't argue."

John smiled, "Probably not." He paused thoughtfully before continuing, "Maybe the reason I'm not seeing a big difference is because the two of you have been a couple for almost three years - you just didn't know it. _That's_ the reason nothing's changed."

Oliver let his gaze wander around the tiny space he and Felicity had occupied for the last few weeks. In many ways, it felt more like home than his room in the Queen mansion ever had. "Nothing's changed," he repeated quietly, "and everything's changed. I realized today that I can't imagine life without Felicity, that I expect her to be with me forever. I never got to that place with another woman, not even Laurel. It's not something I'm used to thinking."

John laughed, "So… _wife_ might not be so far off after all. I'll be looking for the ring next time I see you two."

Oliver felt a small spark of hope, "Does that mean you will see us again? Both of us?"

John sighed, "Yes, Oliver. I can't pretend our relationship will get back to where it was, but I realized today that I still want to have one. I understand that you were faced with some impossible choices and you made what you thought was the best decision. I can't really accept it, but I'm not sure I know what I would have done if I were put in the same position. Lyla's gotten over it. It's time I did, too. Besides," he added wryly, "Felicity will give us no peace if we don't work something out."

Oliver grinned, inexplicably and unreasonably happy, "You've got that right."

* * *

 

Felicity appeared to be asleep when Oliver stepped into the bedroom. As usual, she was wearing one of his tee shirts, and she lay on her side breathing deeply and regularly. Oliver stripped down to his underwear and slipped quietly in the bed next to her, doing his best not to disturb as he spooned around her body. His caution was unnecessary. She was still awake and turned immediately to face him, pulling herself close with an arm around his waist and tucking her head under his chin. It was a familiar, comforting pose and he felt the stress begin to ease from his body. They might not have it all figured out, but she was here pressed against him - safe- at least for the moment. He closed his eyes and let drowsiness take over, happy to escape for a few hours of much needed sleep.

Felicity, however, had other ideas.

She slid the hand that had been resting on his waist around to his back and began to trace her fingers lightly up and down his spine, traveling from his shoulder blades to his backside. When he didn't respond immediately, she supplemented that action with kisses to his neck and chest, growing more persistent as he continued to lie quietly. Oliver wasn't sure how to react, other than to hold her gently. The thoughts he'd had earlier about her refusing to deal with her kidnapping came flooding back. He wondered whether her advances signaled some kind of unhealthy avoidance.

"Felicity?" he kept his voice low.

"Hmm?" she answered, never stopping her kisses.

"What are you doing?"

She paused this time, resting her hand on his hip and tilting her head back to look at him. "If you have to ask, I must be doing it wrong."

A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it. Most of the women he'd known would have tried to make those words sound coy. Felicity, on the other hand, sounded genuinely perplexed. He'd discovered almost immediately in their relationship that she brought the same honesty to the bedroom that she'd brought to the foundry and the office. If she liked something, she told him. If she didn't like it, she told him that, too. It was a refreshing and delightful trait, one that he hoped she never lost.

He hastened to explain. "You're doing it just fine, Felicity - believe me, I get where you're going. It's just…..it's been a really tough day. I wasn't sure we were going to be able to find you or whether you would be hurt when we did. You know me – I don't rattle easily – but I was rattled this time. I've been running on pure adrenaline since they took you. And talking to John when we got back here wasn't exactly a picnic either. So now I'm beat - emotionally and physically - just beat."

She lay there, absorbing his words. Slowly, her hand moved 90 degrees, from his hip to his front side and her light stroking resumed. Her teeth were very white in the dark when she smiled, "Feels to me like you're not _completely_ fatigued." She gave a gentle squeeze to the relevant body part.

And, damn it, she was right. Things had come to life. He could feel his breathing and his pulse quicken involuntarily.

Still, he really wasn't sure this was what they should be doing. He tried again, "Felicity – you were kidnapped and injured. As happy as I am about this, I'm afraid it's some weird reaction to being held hostage. Maybe we should wait."

Her smile disappeared. " _Weird reaction?_ Because we haven't had sex before? Or often? Oliver, I love you. And, yes, I was scared…I wasn't sure I'd see you again. And I'm still scared they're going to come back. But right now we're here together, and today was a reminder to never, ever take each other for granted. All I want at this moment is to reconnect with you in every way possible. This is not some unhealthy reaction – it's the opposite. Please tell me you understand that."

He kissed her forehead. "I do."

"Good." She resumed kissing his neck.

"But Felicity…"

She sighed. "Yes?" It was clear he was beginning to try her patience.

"Can I also remind you that John is on the other side of the wall, less than 10 feet away?"

She laughed softly. "Ahhh…now we're getting to the real issue. You're uncomfortable doing this with John nearby. Oliver, John and Lyla made a daughter together. I think he knows all about this stuff. And anyway, it sounds like he heard plenty today about our sex life. He won't be surprised."

Oliver shook his head, "Hearing that your closest friends have sex together is different from actually hearing them having sex. I don't want to put John through the second part of that sentence."

"You mean you'll be too embarrassed if John hears us having sex. That's pretty funny, considering your reputation before the island. Oliver Queen, the great seducer, boasting to his buddies about all the women he'd been with."

"Yeah, well, we both know I'm not that guy anymore. Allow me to have developed a little prudishness along with better commitment skills."

She paused thoughtfully, resting her hand lightly over his heart. "What if I promise to be very, very quiet?" she suggested, stretching upward and kissing him fully on the mouth. Her kiss evoked the same response it always did – instant desire and a need to connect with her that was every bit as strong as her need to connect with him.

And he was powerless, completely powerless. "Oh, what the hell…," he sighed. He returned her kiss as deeply as she had just kissed him.

In the end he couldn't remember if they managed to stay quiet or not.


	7. Chapter 7

Felicity woke slowly to a room speckled with early morning light. There was a heavy weight across her chest and she was welcomed by two of her favorite scents – coffee and recently-showered Oliver. The weight was his arm and a decent portion of his upper torso as he lay half across her, his head resting on her pillow instead of his own. Normally she was the one sprawled on top of him, but then there had been nothing normal about yesterday. For a while she had feared that they would never see each other again and he had probably feared the same. So she knew exactly what this was – this was Oliver being protective, even naked and asleep…and smelling great. To her disappointment, there was no sign of the coffee. That aroma must be coming from the kitchen.

She was surprised that Oliver still was asleep. He was _always_ the first to wake, restless with barely contained energy that had to be expressed in activity after hours of lying quietly. When he'd told her last night that he was spent physically and emotionally, he must really have meant it because he was almost inert now. His breathing was slow and deep, his limbs relaxed and his face smoothed of worry lines. She felt a twinge of guilt when she recalled that she had persuaded him to exert himself further before sleep, but only a twinge. It had been special, and she was pretty sure he had felt that too. Not that all their other times together weren't special, but the connection last night had somehow transcended the physical and bound them in a way that felt permanent.

She had moments yet when she could not believe this thing was real – _her and Oliver._ She kept waiting for the bubble to burst, for him to recall that Laurel was the woman he had loved for most of his life or for another crisis to convince him that he wasn't meant to be with anyone. Of all the fears she'd had yesterday, perhaps the greatest was that Oliver might somehow blame the kidnapping on himself and decide that she'd be safer away from him. But so far that hadn't happened, and as she felt the weight of him on her and thought about the license she now had to run her hands over his amazing body, she had to smile.

Of course, being who she was, she also had to do something to spoil this serene and tender moment. In this case, Oliver's bent knee resting lightly on her hip and abdomen began to make her aware of her rather full bladder. She was going to have to get up to pee. She frowned at the ceiling – this was one of those moments that only seemed to happen to her. Sara Lance, no doubt, had been able to drink a six-pack and cuddle til noon. Felicity thought about gutting it out - she really hated to disturb Oliver – but the potential consequences of waiting too long were even less romantic. And besides, that coffee smelled _awfully_ good.

Keeping an eye on Oliver's face, she slid slowly and silently out from under him, plumping the covers to prop up the arm that had been holding her. She rolled carefully off the side of the bed to the floor and stood up, feeling a slight chill as the morning air hit her naked body. Oliver sighed and shifted, but settled again without waking. So far, so good. She exhaled in relief and stepped into the bathroom.

A couple of minutes later, Oliver was still asleep and she was feeling much more comfortable. She pulled his tee shirt over her head and, recalling that John was in the other room, added a pair of leggings to her just-tumbled-out-of-bed ensemble. She was pleased to find that her feet, although sore, were not nearly as painful as yesterday.

She tip-toed out of the bedroom and closed the door gently behind her. John was sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of coffee. She wondered if he'd slept at all. The sofa wasn't exactly Diggle-sized.

"'Morning," she said softly before nodding toward his cup. "I hope you made enough for two."

John smiled, "Of course I did. Anyone else I'd say I'd made enough for five, but I'm guessing your coffee habits haven't changed. "

"They haven't."

"How're the feet?" She looked down at them briefly before responding, "Better."

"Oliver still asleep?"

Felicity nodded, "Surprisingly, yes. I figured he'd have us up at the crack of dawn running those photos through facial recognition, but he's really out. He must have been exhausted."

John took a sip of his coffee and looked at her thoughtfully, "I wonder whether yesterday was harder on him than it was on you. He was pretty shaken." After a short pause he added, "It certainly got him thinking."

Felicity bit her lip. That didn't sound good. In the past, Oliver thinking about their relationship meant Oliver coming up with a list of reasons why they couldn't be together.

John must have read her thoughts. He shook his head and said quickly, "No, not thinking that – he's not planning to pull some self-sacrificing stunt for your protection." He looked down at his coffee mug and said carefully, "No, my guess is he figured out yesterday that you are it for him."

Felicity added milk to her coffee and raised the steaming mug to her mouth. As always, the first taste in the morning was heaven. "It?" she repeated.

John said slowly, "The last woman he ever dates."

" _Oh_!" Felicity abruptly put her mug down, at a rare loss for words. She felt a warmth inside her that had nothing to do with the coffee. That Oliver might see their relationship as enduring was not a complete surprise – especially not after last night - but it was still a shock to hear John say it out loud. Thus far she'd kept such notions to herself. Hearing it from someone else took it from the _dream_ category and placed it squarely in the realm of _possibility_. She studied the tendrils of steam rising from her mug, embarrassed and delighted at the same time.

When she was able to look at Digg again he was watching her with those steady, warm brown eyes that never missed a thing. At such times, she thought, John could be both comforting and disconcerting; he was compassionate, yet he also disliked avoidance and preferred to get right to the point. She could tell he was about to do that now.

"Felicity," he asked gently, "what are your plans? All this," he looked around the bungalow, "is nice, but you and Oliver can't play house here forever. I think you both already know that you're compatible." He paused, and added sternly, "Have you at least talked about what happens next?"

It was the question Felicity had been dreading. She wanted to tell John that it was too early to be thinking about it; that after three years on a battlefield she and Oliver had earned a few months of not thinking at all – but she stopped. For one, John deserved better. And for two, the man could pinpoint a lie at five hundred yards in the dark – he was essentially a lie sniper. She sometimes wondered how Lyla could live with it.

She took a deep breath. "We've talked about it a little," she said unevenly. "We haven't decided anything yet, but I doubt we'll come back to Starling. We both want a fresh start. I've thought about opening my own software business and Oliver – well, he's still working out what he wants to do."

John frowned. "And now that you know Ray made you CEO of Palmer? You must be a little interested in running a fifteen billion dollar technology company. You'll have license to develop all kinds of new tech."

She shook her head, "I'm not so sure, John. It's not something Ray or I ever talked about. I like the technology part but I don't know that I like the CEO part. There's a lot of crap that comes with being CEO that has nothing to do with the tech." She took a sip of coffee, letting the mug hide her face for a few seconds. "I don't think I'm the best person for it."

And of course Digg spotted the fib. "That's bullshit, Felicity, don't give me that. We both know you can do pretty much anything you put your mind to. And after years of being bossed around by men who are less intelligent than you are – and I include Oliver in that list – you must be dying to take charge. What's the real reason you don't want to go back to Starling? "He was looking at her intently.

Felicity hesitated. She probably couldn't say this to anyone else, not her mother and especially not Oliver, but this was Digg. He'd known she was in love with Oliver long before she'd been willing to admit it, and he'd been witness to every phase of their erratic relationship over the last three years. If anyone would understand, it would be John.

She met his eyes squarely. "I'm afraid, John," she admitted, "I'm afraid of what happens when we get back to Starling and we have to deal with all of his past. There's Laurel, for one. She's been part of his life forever and you never forget your first love. And he's going to want to look out for Thea, even if she is kickass. I don't want to get sucked back into our old life. What if it makes him remember all the reasons he thought he couldn't be with me in the first place?"

Digg smiled and looked at her kindly. "I figured it was something like that. Felicity, we both know there are no guarantees in this world and I'm probably the last person to pose as an expert on relationships." He tapped his fingers lightly on his coffee mug. "Still, I feel pretty confident in saying that Oliver's not in the same place he was a year ago, and I don't ever see him going back there. It's more than him finally being happy - you're part of his DNA now. He's not going to give you up that easily."

Felicity straightened up and adjusted her glasses, "You think?"

John nodded, "I know."

Suddenly everything felt better. Felicity took a healthy gulp of coffee and smiled.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask John if he thought she should take the CEO position at Palmer Technologies when the motion sensor alarm on her cell phone went off.

And in the blink of an eye his Glock was in John Diggle's hand. She wondered where he had been keeping it during their conversation. And, nearly as quickly, Oliver was standing in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and looking wide awake. Felicity watched as John flipped him a second Glock and Oliver - barely looking - caught it in the effortless, one-handed way that only athletic men seem to be able to do. Felicity was torn between admiration of Oliver's bare-chested, bare-footed form and a bit of envy at how he could spring out of bed and instantly look this good. Only when John gently pushed on her shoulder to get her to duck behind the kitchen counter did she recall that they might be in danger.

Felicity crouched, peering over the top of the counter while John and Oliver did some kind of silent communication that ended up with them standing on either side of the front door to the bungalow. There was silence as everyone waited.

And then someone knocked.

Felicity rose from behind the counter only to see John motion her to duck back down. She obeyed, but kept her head high enough to see what was happening.

John moved to the window and carefully pushed the curtains aside to take a look. "It's the detective," he announced, "and it looks like Lance is with him."

Oliver swore, expressing both relief and frustration. Felicity stood up and this time John let her stay standing.

He and Oliver did another silent communication thing and both of them lowered their guns. Oliver handed his Glock to John who moved to sit on the sofa, placing the weapons under it but within easy reach. Then he sat back calmly, looking for all the world like he'd been watching ESPN for the last hour.

The second knock was louder and more impatient.

Oliver took a last look to make sure there was no other weaponry in the room. Certain everything was in place, he opened the door but filled the frame with his body, not allowing immediate access.

Detective Zimmer and Captain Lance both stared at him, Zimmer looking mostly curious and Lance looking mostly irritated. They clearly had not been expecting Oliver's casual, half-naked appearance; he gave the impression that he had just gotten out of bed after a normal evening at home. Of course, he _had_ just gotten out of bed, Felicity thought, but there had been those in-between moments where he had caught a gun and looked incredibly sexy doing it. She reminded herself to focus.

"Can I help you?" Oliver asked politely.

Before Zimmer could respond, Lance angrily pushed his way into the bungalow. He made a long and obvious search of the room, starting first with Digg and ending eventually with Felicity. His expression softened a little when he met her eyes.

"Ms. Smoak," he said.

"Captain Lance," she acknowledged.

"I'm glad to see you safe."

"Thank you."

His gentleness lasted for all of about five seconds; then the interrogation started. "I understand from Detective Zimmer, Felicity, that you were able to get away from two kidnappers on your own? That's quite a feat," he added sarcastically, "How did you manage to do it?"

She didn't rise to the bait. "They left me alone for a while and the place wasn't quite as secure as they thought," she explained, matter-of-factly. "I found a way out and managed to get my hands on a phone. I called Oliver and hid til he and Digg could pick me up." The three of them had agreed to this story last night. Their plan was to stick as close to the truth as possible, without actually talking about events in the warehouse.

"And where, exactly, did you make this miraculous escape from?"

"I don't know," she glanced over toward John, "Digg and Oliver picked me up, maybe they can tell you."

Lance looked at Diggle who nodded and provided the location of the warehouse. Lance immediately turned to Zimmer and said, "I'd suggest you get men out there right away. You'll especially want to look for bodies with arrows in them." His face darkened. "It's too bad we're only getting this information now – it's been over twelve hours, plenty of time for someone to clean up the place." The anger in his voice was unmistakable.

Taken aback, Detective Zimmer said reasonably, "Based on Ms. Smoak's information yesterday I didn't think there was a need to look for bodies. And if you're implying that these three," he gestured to Oliver, Felicity and Digg, "went back there to destroy evidence, they've been here all night. I had uniforms drive by several times." He gave Lance a _what the hell is your problem_ look.

Lance shook his head, but didn't argue further. "Well, let's see what else Ms. Smoak has to say about her kidnappers. If they're not dead in the warehouse then they're still on the loose. I assume we _can_ try to go after them."

He sat down on a stool near Felicity and pulled out his notebook. For the next twenty minutes he asked her the same questions in various forms over and over, trying to get her to deviate from her story. Oliver stood supportively behind her, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder. She never wavered, partly because they had practiced last night but mostly because Oliver would squeeze her shoulder gently when he wanted her to stop talking.

At last Lance gave up, clearly frustrated. "Fine," he said brusquely. "Let's recap: We know we're looking for two men, one older and darker and one younger and fairer. We don't their names, we don't know why they took you, and we don't know where they are now." He shook his head, and broadened his angry scowl to include Digg as well as Oliver and Felicity. "You're just full of information, all three of you."

Felicity tried to assume an appropriately worried expression. It wasn't much of a stretch because Lance was intimidating and most of what he'd just said was true. They really didn't know anything. The only piece they had omitted telling the Captain was that they had photographs - they had agreed last night to look into those on their own."I'm sorry, Captain," she said apologetically, "I was just trying to get away. I didn't think to try to gather any evidence." She stopped when Oliver squeezed her shoulder again.

There was a long pause, during which Detective Zimmer looked thoughtful and Captain Lance disbelieving. Finally Zimmer spoke up, "Well, thank you for the information. We'll be in touch if we learn something." Felicity noted that he said _if_ , not _when_.

The two men left.

Oliver, Digg and Felicity looked at each other. "I think," Oliver said, "that we should check into those photos sooner rather than later. I'd prefer it if we learn the identities of those two men before they do."

Felicity nodded. "We need to run the searches. There's a community college not far from here that has a pretty good datacenter," she explained to John. "There's not enough bandwidth at the bungalow to handle the facial recognition software, but we can go there and get them running."

"Sounds good," John agreed, rising from the sofa.

Felicity started walking toward the bedroom to get dressed, but stopped when Oliver didn't follow. Still standing at the kitchen counter, he said thoughtfully, "Why don't we divide and conquer? You two go to the college and I'll stay here and get on the phone with Cisco. He should have more information on the Palmer employees by now. Maybe we'll come up with some information that we can tie together."

It was a reasonable suggestion and not a bad idea, but there was something off in his voice. It was almost his _needing time alone_ voice, not something Felicity would have expected from him now. She'd assumed he'd be suffocatingly overprotective until they figured this whole thing out. She looked at him quizzically.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

Oliver smiled reassuringly, "It's fine, I promise. I just want to figure this out as quickly as possible." He walked over and kissed her on the forehead.

She didn't believe him, but there wasn't much she could say. "Alright," she agreed slowly, "I'll get dressed and John and I can head to the college."She opened the bedroom door.

"Felicity?" Oliver's voice followed her.

She turned, "Yes?"

"I think you should let John drive the Porsche."

* * *

 

Oliver listened intently for any sound of a second car that might be following the Porsche. When he heard nothing, he tucked a gun in his jeans against the small of his back, poured two large mugs of coffee and stepped outside. He sat on the steps of the bungalow and stared at the ocean. It was almost exactly twenty-four hours since Felicity had been kidnapped. At this time yesterday, he had been returning from his run only to see the men grab her. Like yesterday, there were a handful of beachcombers along the shore, a few walking dogs and one or two others picking up shells and sea-glass as Felicity loved to do. It was very tranquil. He hoped it stayed that way.

He took a sip of coffee from one of the mugs, placing the second beside him on the step. "I wasn't sure how you take your coffee," he said conversationally, "so it's just black. I hope that's okay."

The man stepped around the corner of the bungalow and walked up to Oliver. He appeared to be unarmed and alone, but appearances could always be deceiving. "Black coffee is fine," he said mildly. "It's been a long night, I could use some."

Oliver wordlessly handed him the second mug. The man accepted it and took a long sip. There was something familiar about the way he closed his eyes when he swallowed. "Not bad," he said, "hits the spot."

He and Oliver studied one another. The man looked fifty-ish and very average – average height, average weight, wearing an average white shirt and blue pants. There was a decent amount of brown hair cut short on his head, and he had pale blue eyes that looked straight at Oliver, but almost without interest. The kind of man you'd pass a dozen times on the street and never give a second glance – not powerful and certainly not threatening. Oliver wondered exactly how many times they had passed him during the last six weeks.

If the man was unnerved by Oliver's appraisal, he didn't show it. "Mr. Queen, I appreciate the opportunity to talk with you like this," he began. "After what happened yesterday, I thought a change in tactics might be appropriate. I'm going to try persuasion rather than force." He chuckled suddenly. "Felicity turned out to be even more resourceful than I thought. She is quite an amazing woman." He paused, "And of course she has very good friends. Now that the three of you are on high alert…well…I'm not crazy about the violence that would be needed to take her. Someone might get seriously hurt. So…I thought I'd try a different approach." He said it in the same tone a person comparing paint samples on the wall might use when evaluating the colors.

Oliver felt anger burning deep in his belly as the man matter-of-factly discussed his kidnapping attempt, but did his best to bury it. He needed to keep his head clear. "Persuasion?" he asked slowly. "You think you can just convince us to give Felicity up to you?"

The man shrugged. "I think you should listen to my story," he said. "You might be surprised at what I have to say. After that, well….let's just take it one step at a time."

Oliver put his mug down. Keeping his voice neutral he said, "Maybe we should start with your name."

The man nodded, "If you wish. I've had several. The one that would probably mean the most to you is James – James Smoak."

Oliver said flatly, "Felicity's dad."

He nodded. "You don't seem surprised."

Oliver shrugged. "Someone's been watching us for weeks, ever since we left Starling. Every trip we made into town, all our picnics on the beach, we've never been completely alone. I figured whoever it was had a personal interest in one of us. If it were just about revenge or eliminating a threat, he or she could have made a dozen assassination attempts by now. I guessed someone wanted something." He sighed, "My mistake was assuming that it was from me." And if they were here, he thought, both Felicity and John would be giving him a lecture on self-centeredness when they heard that statement.

"But you didn't know it was Felicity's father."

Oliver shook his head, "No, I didn't know that." He looked up at James Smoak, the man who had walked away from his wife and daughter many years ago and felt his anger reignite. "If you wanted to see Felicity," he asked tersely, "why didn't you just call her? Why the kidnapping?"

James Smoak sighed, "You tell me. You know Felicity – you know her curiosity and her capability. If she had any interest in finding me – talking with me – don't you think she would have done so by now?" His voice was steady as he continued, "No, I'm quite certain she hates me. Otherwise, she would have already used her considerable talents to find me."

Oliver frowned and said brusquely, "She's hurt and angry. But I don't think Felicity's capable of hate." He stared up at Smoak, unable to comprehend the man. "She must have been an amazing child. I don't understand how you could have left her, no matter what the circumstances. You're her fucking _father_." He thought about Felicity's distrust and fear of desertion, the remnants of her life with James Smoak, and continued, "And I sure as hell don't understand what makes you think you have a right to interfere in her life now."

For a moment Smoak said nothing, just stared back at him with a sad smile on his face. Finally he gestured to the step next to Oliver. "Do you mind if I sit down? It was a long flight getting here and an even longer night hiding in the bushes. And then I had to wait til that very persistent police detective set off the motion sensors before I could get near the bungalow. I'm not as young as I used to be, and I'm very tired."

Oliver gazed out at the ocean and then shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Thank you." James Smoak closed his eyes briefly in relief, then lowered himself on the step next to Oliver. "Ahh, that feels good," he said softly. He took a deep swallow of coffee from his mug and set it aside. "I'm going to tell you a story," he continued, "and I'd appreciate it if you'd listen. After that…well…like I said, we'll see."

He looked toward Oliver as if anticipating another objection, but Oliver only raised his eyebrows and gestured for him to begin. Encouraged, Smoak opened his mouth but then suddenly paused. For the first time, Oliver thought he detected nervousness. He hated to admit it, but he was curious.

James Smoak took a deep breath. "I had a good childhood," he began, "a really good childhood. I had a younger sister and two parents who adored us, and each other. Of course no one's family is perfect, but ours was pretty close to it. We were happy."

Really? This was his story - he was starting with his childhood? Disappointed, Oliver almost laughed out loud. He was about to say this wasn't a therapy session and the man could go fuck himself when Smoak raised one hand to silence him.

" _Please_ ," he said, "this will make sense." He lowered his hand back to his lap, resting it lightly on his trousers. "When I was fifteen – older than Felicity was when I left her – my father left us." He stared out at the ocean and Oliver could tell he was remembering that day as vividly as if it were yesterday. "My mother, sister and I had gone to a local fair for the day. When we got back home he was gone, and he had eliminated all traces of himself – his clothes, photos, even his hairbrush. It was as if he had never existed."

Oliver looked at him and waited, interested again.

Smoak swallowed before continuing. "We were devastated. My mother must have spent a week in bed crying and my sister and I…for months we ran to the door every time we heard a car go down the street. The pain was worse than any physical trauma you could ever suffer."

And yet, thought Oliver, you inflicted that same pain on your own child. He shifted in his seat, angry at himself for wanting to hear more. He shouldn't be listening to this man's excuses.

As if reading Oliver's mind, Smoak continued hurriedly, "But people are resilient. It took a lot of time, but eventually we recovered and went on with our lives. My mother never remarried and I didn't see her smile much, but she got a job and she was functional. My sister and I finished school and went to college. We started careers. We both married. And in all that time, I never looked into my father's disappearance. It seemed better buried in the past."

He paused. There was an element of wonder in his voice when he said, "But then my wife and I had Felicity." He looked at Oliver and shook his head, genuinely amazed. "I can't explain it, but having children changes you. You'll find out if you have any of your own. It may sound stupid, but it gets you thinking about your heritage – about what came before and what's going to come after. I don't know exactly why, but after Felicity was born I suddenly became interested in figuring out what happened to my father. I wanted to be able to talk to her about her grandfather." He shook his head regretfully. "It would have been so much easier if I had never looked."

Inexplicably, Oliver felt a chill run up his spine.

"I started with record searches," James Smoak continued, "and hired a few private detectives. And then the internet started to take off and I had a whole new set of tools to hunt with. There was Interpol and the FBI and CIA to tap into. And there was ARGUS. I'm pretty good with computers – Felicity gets that from me – and I created automated searches and that pulsed every agency database out there." He turned and looked at Oliver, "It took me almost five years, but I found him."

Oliver sat forward on the edge of the step. He had a feeling an already sad story was about to get a whole lot darker. He looked at James Smoak expectantly.

"I found him," Smoak continued tiredly, "living in strange place called Nanda Parbat. I found him looking not one bit older than the day he'd left us, even though it had been almost twenty years. I found the kind, gentle and loving father that I'd remembered leading a League of Assassins, himself a ruthless killer." He stopped abruptly.

Oliver felt sick. "Ra's al Ghul," he whispered, all the while thinking there must be some mistake. It couldn't be that Felicity was related to….that Felicity's grandfather was….. He asked Smoak the question aloud - he couldn't help himself. "Ra's is – _was_ – Felicity's grandfather?"

James Smoak nodded.

"Did he know?"

Smoak shook his head, his face becoming calmer. "No. I'm fairly certain he never even knew that I had a family or that I'd found him. Once he left us, he made sure there was never any connection." His voice was factual, devoid of bitterness. "I have a couple of contacts in the League now that I pay dearly to stay informed of any happenings. Imagine my surprise," he added dryly, "when I found out that my own daughter was in Nanda Parbat, the last place on earth I'd ever want her to be."

Oliver said nothing. He was, after all, the one responsible for bringing her there. For several moments he and Smoak stared at the beach. There were a few more people walking, although it was mostly an older crowd. Fall had arrived and the kids were back in school. Oliver wondered how much longer he and Felicity would really want to stay in the bungalow now that summer was over.

He looked at James Smoak. Despite his promise, the story still didn't really explain why the man had tried to kidnap Felicity, or even why he had left her as a child. It only proved that in the screwed-up father competition, he clearly had an edge. Oliver wanted better answers.

"Why now?" he demanded impatiently. "Why does any of this matter now? Ra's is dead and I no longer have anything to do with the League. Felicity could go the rest of her life without knowing this. So why the need to tell her, why the kidnapping?"

Smoak shook his head sadly, "That's a very naïve statement, Oliver. As you know, Malcolm Merlyn has taken over the League essentially by force – the two of you staged a coup when you handed him that ring. Many League members are not pleased - there are a number who will only give their allegiance to Ra's bloodline, not some usurper. Merlyn knows this."

Oliver frowned, "Then they have Nyssa. She and Malcolm can do battle for leadership of the League. If there are members who support the bloodline, she should have plenty of allies."

Smoak shook his head again, "Although of his bloodline, Nyssa is not respected by all. While she's an excellent warrior, she's perceived by many to be impulsive and emotionally weak. Your marriage to her would have been the perfect answer – your strengths as a leader combined with your offspring having Ra's blood. It was a good solution, from the League's perspective."

He paused, then turned to face Oliver. For the first time, there was anger in his voice. "But you upset all their plans when you left and put Merlyn in your place. And I'm afraid now," he said tersely, "that Felicity's heritage will not stay a secret. They are ageing, but there are a few old men in the League who know Ra's had another family many years ago. They may decide to look, and it's possible they may find me. And if they find me, they will find her." He laughed bitterly, "It would be ironic, wouldn't it, for them to find that their Al Sahim was with a woman of Ra's bloodline after all. Some might think it fate."

Smoak looked at Oliver, his face harsh. "The day I found out who my father was, was the day I left Felicity and her mother. When I learned about the League, I knew the best thing I could ever do was erase any connection between Ra's and my family, just as he had tried to erase any connection to his. And now that connection is in danger of being discovered." He clenched his fist. "And that is why I tried to kidnap Felicity - to warn her, to keep her safe." He added almost defensively, "Is that a good enough explanation for you?"

Oliver shook his head helplessly. He had no rebuttal – couldn't find a damn thing to say. And he felt a heaviness in his heart as he realized that the calm and stable life he had imagined for Felicity and himself had evaporated with this man's account.

Smoak turned to look back at the ocean. "When I kidnapped her," he said in a calmer voice, "I had planned to tell her this entire story, just as I have told it to you. I wanted to convince her to start a new life, under a new name; away from Starling, away from Coast city - and away from you."

Oliver said dryly. "I don't think she would have gone willingly."

Smoak nodded, "I thought the same. But I would have told her that this was for your benefit as well. That by being with her, you were always going to be on the League's radar, and if she left – well, then you'd be safer, too. It might have worked. She clearly loves you that much."

He was right. Oliver sat back, nonplussed. He wanted to be furious with James Smoak - to tell him that he should have fought for his family rather than leave them all those years ago, that there had to have been another solution - but the words wouldn't come. He thought about the times he had been willing to walk away from Felicity for reasons that weren't even as good - reasons that, in reality, were more selfish - and it was hard to find fault. This man had done what he thought was necessary to protect his daughter, and Oliver was certain that his pain had been every bit as great as hers. Worse, in a way, because he had always kept thinking about her.

Smoak smiled sadly, "I've followed her for her entire life, you know. She's brilliant, but she's always been something of a danger magnet. First there was that asshole boyfriend of hers in college." He sounded like any worried father. "I managed to convince the NSA to take him, just to get him away from her. Then there was the job for the startup in Boston – her boss was equally bad news—but fortunately she wasn't there long." Oliver sat up. Felicity had never mentioned a job in Boston. Smoak continued, oblivious to Oliver's reaction, "And then she gets to Starling and meets you and Mr. Diggle. The next thing I know she's the Vigilante's tech support, on speed dial with the police."

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "For a while, I thought she might end up with John Diggle. The two of them spent an awful lot of time together. I liked him for her – he's dependable and tough, and has more common sense than all her other boyfriends put together – but it was you from the moment she met you. I wasn't happy but I could have left well enough alone, until you had to go and hook up with the League." He shook his head.

Oliver didn't know how to respond. There was a long silence, interrupted only by the sound of the waves breaking against the shore and sweeping back out to sea. There were so many thoughts swirling around his head that he wasn't sure which one to focus on first. He settled on thinking about Felicity's reaction to the news that he had killed her grandfather. Oddly, he didn't think it would bother her that much. That is, if he told her.

"So," James Smoak said gently, intruding into his thoughts, "What happens next?"

Oliver shrugged, "I don't know. Are you still going to try to tell her about this?"

Smoak shook his head, "No, I don't think so. I'll leave it up to you to tell her as much or as little of the story as you wish. You two clearly are not some short-term fling and trying to separate you was a mistake. If you both decide you want to disappear, well then I'll be happy to help."

"Don't you want to stay and meet her?"

Smoak's eyes were bright as he glanced briefly at Oliver. "More than anything, but I don't think it's a good idea."

"How do we get a hold of you if we want to take you up on your offer?" Oliver asked.

Smoak shrugged, "I'll find you."

And with that James Smoak got up and walked slowly away from the bungalow, leaving Oliver alone with his thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

In the end, Oliver decided to tell her everything; to repeat James Smoak's story with every detail and nuance that he could remember, omitting nothing. Well, more accurately, to tell them everything, because Diggle was there, too, and it felt wrong to exclude John. It was the way they had done everything else - as a team – and somehow he didn't think Felicity would mind if John knew she was Ra's granddaughter.

He wanted to believe this was proof that he had grown, that he was in a better man than he had been a year ago. The old Oliver would have withheld information - particularly from those he loved - certain that he knew what was best for all involved. But the man he was today recognized that Felicity had a right to make her own decisions, and that she had the experience and intelligence to make good ones. The true test, of course, was whether he was going to be able to abide by whatever she decided. He was hoping she'd share her thoughts and they could chart their course together.

He might also have shown a little cowardice by including Diggle in the conversation. He had no idea how Felicity was going to react. She had never spoken about her father other than that day at his mother's mayoral rally. Until an hour ago, all Oliver knew was that James Smoak had walked out on his family when Felicity was very young. She had mentioned that it had hurt at the time, but never how she felt about him since. If there were anything he could predict about Felicity, it was that she could be unpredictable; anger, hurt, fear and shock were all possibilities, and he wasn't sure he was equipped to help her cope. If he remembered correctly, she had at one point referred to Ra's and the League as "Evil Incorporated." Learning that the League might consider her their heir apparent was a lot to take in. John's steadying presence could only be a bonus.

He was still sitting on the steps of the bungalow after Smoak's departure when she and John returned from running the searches on her two kidnappers. They were both laughing. Despite the circumstances, Digg had evidently allowed himself the fun of putting the Porsche through its paces and Felicity was teasing him about nearly getting a speeding ticket. Whatever they'd been able to learn from the photos could not have included a connection to her father, because Oliver was certain they would not have appeared this untroubled.

They took one look at him and the smiles faded from their faces.

"Oliver," Felicity asked worriedly, "what happened?"

Oliver gazed at her – at her sunny beauty and her loving, concerned expression and just shook his head. This was going to be even harder than he'd thought.

John said more matter-of-factly, "Did Cisco find something?"

Oliver fiddled briefly with his empty coffee mug before answering. "I didn't talk to Cisco," he confessed. He met Felicity's eyes. "I talked to the man responsible for your kidnapping."

Felicity and Diggle looked at each other before turning to stare at him.

"Say that again?" John demanded.

Oliver stood up slowly and walked over to her. "Your kidnapper, Felicity, he made contact. He came here. He had a proposition he wanted me to hear. It was… _he_ was…not what I was expecting."

She studied his face knowingly. "But you _were_ expecting something, weren't you," Felicity said, her voice low. "That's why you didn't come with us to the college to run the searches?"

Oliver nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. Her expression said she wasn't angry – _yet_ – but he knew she could reach anger pretty quickly if she concluded he was trying to handle this whole thing on his own. More than ever, he needed her to trust him and hear him out.

He decided to stick to the facts. "I had a feeling when we got back to the bungalow that we were being watched." He saw her eyes narrow and continued quickly, "I thought whoever it was might follow you, and I could follow them and find out who they were. But they didn't...follow you. They… _he_ …talked to me instead."

It was Diggle who asked the question. "Who talked to you?"

Oliver took a deep breath. "Do you mind if we go inside? I think we all might need a drink for this conversation." _I'm certainly going to need one._

Felicity frowned, "It's 10:30 in the morning."

Oliver nodded and sighed, "I know, but as the saying goes, it's 5:00 somewhere. We can add a shot of whiskey to our coffees and pretend it's still breakfast." His attempt at a little humor failed miserably. Both John and Felicity simply stared at him.

She must have seen something in his face that made her decide to hold her arguments because, after a long moment, Felicity gestured toward the doorway with an _after you_ motion and followed him up the steps. Diggle was right behind her.

Once inside, there was really no way to ease into James Smoak's story so Oliver just started. He repeated it all – Smoak's father leaving his family, finding out his father was part of the League, the reasons he wanted to make Felicity disappear – all the while watching Felicity's face. He was dimly aware of a range of expressions crossing Diggle's, but hers remained strangely impassive. He kept waiting for her to interrupt with a denial or a question, but she stood there wordlessly. Of all the reactions he'd anticipated, this was not one of them. Her silence frightened him more than a diatribe in her loudest loud voice.

Even when he finished and the bungalow lapsed into an uncomfortable stillness, she said nothing. She seemed to have trouble meeting his eyes, choosing instead to stare at a spot on the kitchen counter. He looked anxiously over her head at Diggle, but John shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as if to say _your guess is as good as mine._

He needed her to say something. "Felicity?"

She took a shaky breath. "Maybe that whiskey was a good idea after all." She wasn't joking.

Oliver reached for the bottle.

"Don't bother with the coffee," she added.

He found three glasses and poured a healthy dose of the amber liquid into each, pushing two of them toward Felicity and John. He and John each took a quick belt.

Felicity's fingers closed around her glass and she swirled the whiskey a few times. Her head was down with her hair hiding much of her face. She picked up the glass and took a long, healthy swallow, grimacing as the liquid worked its way down her throat.

"Felicity?" he repeated.

At last she looked up at him. Her eyes were full of a number of emotions; he couldn't sort out which one predominated. Sorrow? Fear? Embarrassment, maybe – or could it be guilt? What on earth did she have to feel guilty about?

She spoke softly, "I'm so sorry, Oliver."

He frowned, "Sorry? For what?"

"For…all of this."

She took another sip of the whiskey then reached out to take his hand. He immediately felt relief at the contact. Holding hands in times of crisis had always been a source of comfort for them, and it felt right now. He clasped her fingers gently, not giving her the option of withdrawing. He could only hope his touch was giving her what hers had so often given him – strength and a sense that she was not alone in this.

"I'm sorry," she continued in a stronger voice, "for dragging you back into a situation with the League. You wanted to make a clean break, to get away from danger and from fighting. You wanted to live a normal life. And now…now I've just pulled you back into all of it."

This was _not_ what he wanted her thinking about. He wanted her to consider what this meant for her own life, not his. "Felicity," he said almost impatiently, "I've just told you that the father you thought had abandoned you has been watching you for years, and you're Ra's granddaughter." He squeezed her hand gently. "And your first reaction is to worry about what it's going to do to _my_ life? That should be way down on your list."

She gave him a tremulous smile. "Oliver, I know it's going to sound stupid and you and John will tell me I'm avoiding dealing with it, but I can't do much about my father or my grandfather. Sharing DNA with Ra's while…surprising… doesn't mean I'm anything like him. It's a freak coincidence." She was starting to sound a little more like her old self. "And I'm not sure how I feel about the choices my father made. I suppose they were noble in their own way, but you know I'm not a fan of men who sacrifice their lives for their loved ones without at least involving them in the decision." She gave him a pointed look. "Anyway, all of that's in the past and there's nothing I can do to change it. What I _can_ change is what this might do to your life."

Oliver frowned. He didn't like where this was going. "My life? What exactly do you think you can change?"

She reached out with her other hand to cover their enjoined ones. "I could give you the choice my father never gave my mother…to decide whether or not to be involved in any of this. If you want, I could disappear – either with my father or without him – and let you move forward with a normal life. Oliver, you're finally in a good place…with Thea, with John," she nodded toward Diggle, "and most importantly, with yourself. If I'm going to bring danger and darkness, if I'm going to start the cycle all over, it might make sense for me to disappear now."

Oliver looked at her earnest face and knew she meant every word of what she'd said – she was willing to leave for his sake. What he couldn't determine was what she wanted for herself. For all her babbling, Felicity could be incredibly opaque when she chose.

He gave her hand a gentle tug, pulling her into him until she was close enough to wrap his arms around. She didn't return his hug – her arms hung limply at her sides – but she did rest her forehead on his chest. He felt her inhale and exhale heavily.

"Felicity, first of all, if I _am_ in a good place, it's because you are part of my life. You disappearing would bring more darkness than any other circumstance I can think of. So while I appreciate you giving me the choice, I'm not going to take you up on that offer."

He slid his hands up the sides of her arms to eventually rest on her shoulders. "And as for putting me in danger, think of all the times I've _knowingly_ dragged you into danger. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. This just evens us out a little bit." He gave an exaggerated sigh. "No, you're stuck with me and we're going to have to figure out how to deal with this."

Her arms came up then, wrapping themselves around his waist. She breathed, "Oh thank God. I was hoping you'd say something noble and…boyfriendy… like that. I was afraid you'd regret getting involved with a woman with such a screwed up family. I'm not sure what I would have done if you'd actually taken me up on the offer." She paused thoughtfully, "Of course, your family wasn't exactly rainbows and unicorns either. There was your father's book of names. And your mother…" She paused again. Oliver could almost see her telling herself to come back to the point. She tightened her arms. "So we're in this together?"

That sounded much more Felicity. Oliver rested his chin on the top of her head. "Together."

Even without seeing her face, he was certain she was smiling.

Diggle cleared his throat. "I hate to break up this Hallmark moment, guys, but you still need to make some kind of decision. I can't believe either one of you really want to disappear with Felicity's dad."

Oliver looked around the tiny space that had felt like home for the last few weeks. He was pretty sure he and Felicity could find a similar place far away, and it would feel just as good. "Probably not," he agreed reluctantly, "although it's very tempting." He stepped back gently from Felicity and looked down into her eyes. "Since we've established that I'm an evolved human being willing to make decisions collaboratively, what do you say we spend a couple more days here and think about our next move? I think we have a lot to talk about."

She nodded, her eyes traveling slowly around the room. He guessed her thoughts about starting over somewhere else were similar to his.

Diggle walked up to them. "I think that's my cue to head back to Starling. Lyla's probably more than ready to hand over Sara and have a few minutes to herself." He took Felicity's arm and gently disengaged her from Oliver so that he could look her in the eye. Speaking only to her, he said quietly but sternly, "I want to remind you of something I told Oliver a long time ago, about secrets having weight. You need to decide whether you really want to carry this one around for the rest of your life. You're a smart woman, Felicity, smarter than your boyfriend here," he tilted his head toward Oliver and grinned, "I trust you'll make a good choice." He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the top of her head.

She smiled, although her eyes were overly bright, and gave Diggle a hug. "Thank you, John. I promise I'll think about it."

John turned to look at Oliver, his grin growing wider. "And you Oliver, whatever you two decide – you know if you screw it up with Felicity I'm going to find you and hurt you, man."

Oliver laughed, although he had no doubt Diggle meant every word he said. "Believe me, John, I have no intention of screwing up."

"You never do, and yet you manage it somehow."

Oliver laughed again. Despite the circumstances, he felt surprisingly good – in some ways better than he'd even felt over the last six weeks. He'd overcome his protective tendencies to share everything with Felicity and it had worked out, it had been the right thing to do. His relationship with John might not be back to the brotherhood they'd felt six months ago, but at least they were talking.

Felicity was watching the two of them, the smile on her face matching theirs. To Oliver's dismay, it suddenly disappeared, replaced by a look of trepidation and distaste. She'd clearly thought of something new and, whatever it was, it was not a pleasant thought.

"Felicity," Oliver said quickly, "what is it? What's the matter?"

She looked at him, shaking her head. "I can't believe this didn't occur to you…either of you," she added, including John in her disapproval.

Oliver turned to John. He looked just as perplexed. "What, Felicity, what did we miss?"

She wrinkled her nose as if she'd just drunk sour milk. " _Auntie Nyssa_?"

* * *

 The bungalow seemed larger without John Diggle's presence. Felicity was sorry to see him leave, but at the same time felt content to have the space returned to Oliver and her. She had always heard about a couple's first home being forever special and wondered if she'd look back twenty years from now and remember this place. Strangely, she didn't think learning about her father and grandfather would mar the memory. She and Oliver had gotten closer in so many ways during their stay and his decision to tell her everything, to not make choices for her, only confirmed that their relationship had grown. It pleased her to think that she might be the reason for this new openness in him.

He hadn't said much since John's departure. She could tell he was relieved to have begun mending the tear in their friendship, but could also see that he was anxious to develop a plan to address the situation with her father. She found it mildly amusing that, between the two of them, Oliver was more of a planner. The once idle playboy was less comfortable flying by the seat of his pants than she was.

They were still standing in the kitchen, their whiskey glasses empty. She had never been one for hard alcohol but she had to admit that she liked the warmth she now felt in her stomach, and the edge was certainly off her nerves.

"Felicity…" Oliver's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"What do you want to do now?"

She studied his handsome, concerned face. _Go back to bed,_ she thought. I want to go back to bed and get lost in the feel and scent of you and not think about any of this for the rest of the day. I want you to get me limp and sleepy and too sated to even remember that I have a father. She knew if she asked, he'd probably do it. But she also knew that he'd be worrying all the while. Oliver's ability to multi-task was far greater than the average male's.

She said instead, "Do you want to take a walk? I think there's some leftover cold pizza we can bring for a picnic lunch."

"Does this walking include talking?"

She frowned. "Yes, I suppose it has to…eventually. I want to enjoy the beach for one more day before we start doing whatever it is we decide to do."

"Okay."

 

They walked a long time, farther along the shoreline than they ever had before. Oliver had had the foresight to throw a couple of hoodies in his backpack along with the pizza and bottles of water, and she found that she needed one. The summer softness in the air had been replaced with a gentle nip. They sat in the sand and finished the pizza; then Oliver moved to sit behind her, pulling her between his long legs into to his chest, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Well?" he said softly.

She leaned back into him. "I think John's right."

"About?"

"About secrets having weight. About not carrying this one around for the rest of our lives, always worrying if someone is going to find out."

She felt Oliver lift his chin and kiss her briefly on the back of her head. "Okay." His voice was noncommittal. "You don't want to carry around the secret that you're Ra's granddaughter." He paused then added, "Who do you propose we share the news with, exactly?"

She stared out at the waves. "Well, first I think we tell our families and friends – well, your family really. We tell Thea, Lyla and Laurel. We tell Barry. We might want to skip my mother for now. I can't imagine trying to explain Nanda Parbat and the League to her, never mind Ra's. And talking to her about dad…" Her voice trailed off.

He returned his chin to her shoulder, his scruff gently brushing her cheek. It had become one of her favorite sensations in the world.

"And that gets us?"

She shrugged. "That gets us honest with the people we care about, for starters."

There was a pause as he mulled over her response, his hands resting lightly on her upper arms. He brought them back to her waist. "I won't disagree that it's the right thing to do, Felicity, but I don't see how it addresses the problem." He was trying to be fair, but she could sense a little impatience creeping into his tone.

She tried to head it off. "I wasn't finished, Oliver."

"Right. Continue to enlighten me, Obi-Wan."

She laughed. "Wow, a Star Wars reference. Not really my thing. Now, if you'd gone with…"

He interrupted. "Not the point, Felicity."

"Right." She took a deep breath. She didn't think he'd be crazy about the next part. "Like I said, we tell our friends. After that," she took hold of his hands where they rested on her waist, "we go to Nanda Parbat and have a talk with Nyssa and Malcolm."

Sure enough, he stiffened abruptly. "And say what? 'Hi, I'm Felicity. I'm also an Heir to the Demon but don't worry, I have no interest in inheriting the title?'"

She chose to ignore his sarcasm. "Actually, I was thinking something pretty close to that." She tried to sound logical, to get him to _be_ logical. "Oliver, do I really look like I have it in me to ever have anything to do with the League?" When he didn't respond she added, "Don't you think they see that? Do you think Malcolm and Nyssa would ever take me seriously as a threat?"

He snorted, "They could take _us_ seriously as a threat. That was your father's whole point."

She sighed. "So we make it clear that you want nothing to do with the League, either. That we just want to be left alone. Given that you walked away before and handed leadership over to Malcolm, I think they'll believe you."

He wasn't buying it. "And then we just trust in their integrity to do the right thing and live happily ever after? Felicity, you've met Merlyn, do you really think you can put faith in anything that man says? What keeps him from killing you anyway, just to cover his bases?" Oliver sounded disappointed.

She squeezed his hands where they still rested around her waist. "I was thinking we also bring a little leverage to the discussion."

"Leverage in the form of what?"

"Remember back before the Undertaking, when we played Tarzan in the elevator shaft and I broke into Merlyn Global's computing network?"

She felt him chuckle, reluctantly. "Felicity, I could never forget that."

She grinned. "The drive I walked out with that day had a lot more on it than just the plans for the earthquake device. We were in a hurry so I grabbed everything figuring I could sort it out once we got back to the foundry. I've got a ton of information about their network, including their domain controllers and their LDAP authentication servers."

Oliver said dryly, "You realize I don't understand what any of that means."

She tried to explain in layman's terms. "It means I can go a lot of places in Merlyn Global's network and get access to a lot of systems. It means I can find the bank accounts, transfer funds, and run the company into the ground if I want to." She paused. "I don't know what the League has for resources, but if Malcolm is in any way dependent on Merlyn Global for funding, I can ruin him."

Oliver shook his head, his scruff once again brushing her cheek. "Felicity, that's just giving him another reason to want to eliminate you. I don't see how it counts as leverage."

She laughed, "Oh ye of little faith. I can plant a dozen logic bombs set to go off at some date in the future. If anything happens to me, if I'm not alive to intervene, those bombs go off and Merlyn Global is dust. We make sure Malcolm knows that." She hesitated before adding, "Wow, I sounded pretty devious just then."

Oliver sighed, his breath warm against her neck. "Okay, supposing that does work, what about Nyssa?"

"Unlike Malcolm, Nyssa lives by a code of honor. It may not be the same as ours, but I think if we swear on something she considers sacred," Felicity paused and added softly, "the memory of Sara, for instance…she'll believe us and leave us alone."

"You're trusting that?"

Felicity patted his hands, "That and the fact that she has a little thing for me."

Oliver sat up abruptly, then spun her around to face him. The shocked look on his face was priceless. "You _are_ joking, right?"

She laughed, allowing herself a tiny amount of fun at his expense. "Not entirely. She's had her eye on me every time we've been together." He opened his mouth to protest and she continued quickly, "Oh, I know Sara was her love. But I think I made her curious, and I'm pretty sure she would have liked to get into my pants given the opportunity."

"Please tell me that feeling wasn't reciprocated."

Felicity shook her head, still smiling. "No, it wasn't Oliver. I'm afraid I'm irrevocably heterosexual." She sobered suddenly, as a thought occurred to her. "And of course, now that we know she's my aunt, well… _ew_ …it's even more unthinkable." She stretched her hand out to stroke his cheek lightly. "You don't have to worry about me looking at another man, never mind a woman."

He relaxed visibly. "That's good to hear." After a moment, he gently turned her around to face the ocean again, pulling her tightly into his chest. With his lips near her ear, he added softly, "And I still don't like this plan very much. Tell me you have a Plan B."

Felicity bit her lip thoughtfully. "Plan B is that we take on new identities, disappear to New Zealand without telling anyone, and run a winery."

He hugged her against his chest. "Plan B sounds a lot better to me."

"You'd miss Thea."

"Maybe. But I hear New Zealand's beautiful and I've always loved a good sauvignon blanc."

She rested her hands on his thighs, then tapped lightly. She wasn't crazy about this plan either, but she didn't want to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. "Seriously, Oliver, if you have any better ideas I'm ready to hear them."

He kissed the side of her neck. Even now, the act sent small shivers down her spine. "Unfortunately, I don't." His voice became a little more businesslike. "But I think you left something out."

"What?"

"We have to tell your father."

She shook her head. "I don't think I owe my father anything."

He rested his chin on her shoulder again. "It's his secret too. And you telling Malcolm and Nyssa will have big repercussions for him." When she didn't respond he added, "Do you really want to live with it if something happens to him as a result of all this? You may not owe him anything, but would you want to be responsible for his injury or death?"

She sighed, "No, I suppose not." After a few beats she added, "How do you propose we get in touch with him? Please tell me he's not in your contacts list."

"He's not, but I have an idea."

She leaned back into him and said nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

They spent most of the next day preparing to head back to Starling City. Even though Oliver couldn't remember buying much of anything during their time away, they'd somehow managed to accumulate enough to warrant packing boxes and shipping them to Thea's loft. Felicity, to his surprise, turned out to be less sentimental than he was. While he carefully folded and stored the blanket they'd used for their picnics on the beach, she took most of her shell collection and "gave it back to the ocean," keeping only a couple of her very favorites. It would have been an exaggeration to say that a pall hung over the day; yet he couldn't help feeling a kind of subdued stillness, a greyness, that he could only compare to the feeling he got as a kid when summer was over and it was time to go back to school. There was a sense that something unique was ending and he was never going to get it back.

After their decision to confront Merlyn and Nyssa with Felicity's heritage, Felicity had been resolutely silent on the subject of her father. When they'd gotten back to the bungalow last evening and he'd asked what he could do to help, her response had shocked him, to say the least. She hadn't wanted to talk; she hadn't even wanted to rant. Instead, she had stared him in the eye and asked him to take her to bed and "fuck me senseless." Felicity had never been one to shy away from a good Anglo-Saxon expletive, but she had also never referred to the act of love in such terms. That she'd done so gave Oliver a hint of the turmoil she must be in, and it worried him. He had been about to object when he thought of all the times he'd buried the emotional under the physical, and decided he couldn't fault her for seeking an hour or two of oblivion. So he'd done his best to give her that time and when they were finished, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered "thank you" before drifting off for a few hours of sleep.

Still, in the bright light of day he realized they had solved nothing. The topic of her father became the mastodon in the room, disturbing an otherwise companionable silence, and he knew it was up to him to confront it because she wasn't going to. In the late afternoon, when the bungalow no longer looked as though someone lived there and there were boxes stacked around the perimeter, he decided to raise the subject.

"Felicity," he started softly.

"Yes?"

"You haven't asked how I'm going to get in touch with your father."

She shrugged. "I don't think the _how_ is as important as the _when_. Make sure you let me know so that I can be somewhere else."

"You don't want to talk to him?"

"Not especially." There was no hesitation in her voice.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Oliver."

He studied her, troubled by her certainty and composure. She had her hair in a ponytail today, a style she hadn't adopted for most of their time away. He wondered if it somehow signaled a return to either business or Starling City for her. He especially liked it at this moment– it was untidier than usual, with wisps of hair breaking free and framing her face. There was a small dirt smudge on her nose and Oliver was struck yet again at how beautiful she really was. He wished he could keep all pain away from her, but knew that wasn't realistic or even right.

"You're staring, Oliver."

"I know. You're beautiful."

She flushed. "Thank you. However, I think I sense a _'but'_ on its way."

"But I think you should talk to your dad."

"Oliver…"

He interrupted, "I get that you think you don't owe him anything – you don't. But knowing that he walked away because he wanted to protect you has to change the way you feel about him, at least a little. He didn't do it because he was lazy, or fell in love with someone else. He wanted to keep you safe."

She lifted her chin. "Maybe. But it doesn't mean it was the right thing to do. I don't think I have an obligation to make him feel better about what he did."

Oliver shook his head. "This isn't about making him feel better, Felicity. This is about making _you_ feel better – about getting the monkey off your back. As long as you avoid the subject of your father, it's going to own you. Dealing with it – with _him_ – puts you back in control."

He could see her start to object then stop, as his words sank in. He felt an unexpected satisfaction that his view mattered enough to make her reconsider. She brushed a few wisps of hair away from her face, creating a small smudge on her cheek in addition to the one already on her nose. He had an urge to kiss those smudges.

Unexpectedly, she smiled at him. "What makes you so insightful and…Diggle-ish…all of a sudden?"

"Diggle-ish?"

"Usually John is the one dispensing the homespun wisdom."

He chuckled. "I guess I must be growing up." He walked over and gently pulled her into a hug. "Does this mean you'll talk to your dad?"

She sighed deeply. "Yeah, I suppose, although I'm not looking forward to it." She rested her forehead against his chest. "And you still haven't told me how you plan to get in touch with him."

"I'm not sure, exactly, although I have an idea." No longer able to resist, he kissed the dirt spot on her nose before walking into the kitchen and picking up one of their remaining bottles of wine. "I was thinking we start by sitting on the steps and sharing this. Toast our last night living on the shore."

She gave him a puzzled but pleased look. "Oo…kay. I certainly don't mind doing that."

"Great. We didn't pack the glasses, so why don't you grab some while I open the bottle."

"Right." She stepped in the kitchen next to him and took a couple of wine glasses from the cupboard.

"Take a third glass."

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Humor me, Felicity."

She shrugged and picked up the third glass. Oliver uncorked her favorite Malbec and the two of them went outside and sat on the steps. He poured two glasses of wine, and placed the third, empty glass conspicuously next to them. She eyed it warily, as if expecting her father to materialize from it like a genie from a bottle.

Hoping to keep her at ease, he shifted closer to Felicity and bumped her shoulder gently with his own. "What do you think we should drink to?" he asked.

Her face was pensive and she studied her wine for so long he didn't think she was going to answer. The late afternoon sunlight slanted across the beach, giving the liquid a beautiful, almost mystical ruby color. For an instant it made him wonder about the color of Felicity's soul, before he chided himself for being a fanciful idiot.

At last she said, "I think we just drink to us, Oliver. I know I probably should have something more poetic or profound to say, but I don't. I think about where we started and what we've been through for the last three years – and how during all that time we were friends, we were partners and we cared about one another. But it was you…and it was me." She placed her hand on his thigh and ran her fingers lightly along the inseam of his jeans. "These last few weeks staying here, you and I became an _us_. I can't explain it, but _us_ is something entirely different from you and me together. I think that's what we toast."

He kissed her on the temple, then tapped his glass lightly against hers. "To us. I think that's a perfect toast."

"To us."

They sipped their wine. The smooth liquid slipped easily down Oliver's throat, warming his stomach. He wondered if there would ever be a time when he saw red wine and didn't think of Felicity.

She sighed. "I am going to miss this place."

"Me too."

She pressed herself closer into his side, resting her head against his shoulder. Together, they watched the waves roll in, the specter of her father temporarily pushed aside. The silence wasn't heavy; it was comfortable and easy.

They had another fifteen minutes of peace before he showed up. Just like before, he emerged from around the side of the bungalow, walking carefully on the wind-swept sand. Oliver could tell that James Smoak was nervous – more nervous than he had been yesterday morning when Felicity had not been there. He approached reluctantly, his eyes moving back and forth between Oliver and Felicity before settling on her. Oliver could feel her body stiffen the instant Smoak appeared, although her face betrayed surprisingly little emotion. Still, the hand that had been lightly resting on his thigh suddenly clamped down with the strength of a heavy duty vise. He put his hand over hers, silently signaling his support.

Smoak spoke first. "Oliver," he said briefly, his gaze never wavering from Felicity. His voice softened, "Felicity."

"Mr. Smoak," Oliver acknowledged.

Felicity said nothing, just stared at her father. If Smoak had anticipated his daughter doing anything to make this first meeting easier, Oliver thought, he had better reconsider. She wore an expression that was part anger, part skepticism, and mostly expectation – it was clear she felt the burden was on Smoak to have a good explanation. He turned to Oliver with an almost pleading look, but Oliver shook his head minutely. This was between Smoak and Felicity. After all, the man's original plan had been to kidnap his daughter in order to talk to her. He had to find the right words now.

Smoak got the hint and cleared his throat nervously as he took a step closer. Oliver could see a dictionary of emotions pass across his face as he looked at the woman he had abandoned as a little girl; pride, curiosity, admiration, even fear were apparent. For a second, Oliver felt sorry for the man. Even if this conversation went well - even if they reconciled - he was never going to get those years back.

At last Smoak said, "Felicity. I…you've grown up to be so beautiful. Standing here now I can't help but think about your mother when we first met. You've got her eyes. She was such a head-turner…"

"She still is, Dad." Felicity cut him short, her voice even. "Which you would know if you'd bothered to stick around."

He shifted nervously on his feet. He knew he'd made a bad start. "Yes, I'm sure she is," Smoak agreed mildly. He took a deep breath, then hurriedly said, "Did Oliver tell you why I left? I was hoping he would. I can see you're… angry. I thought maybe if he explained to you…" His voice trailed off.

"Oliver told me."

"He did? Everything?" Smoak turned toward Oliver for confirmation. He looked skeptical, as if he'd been certain his story alone would have repaired things and therefore Oliver must have omitted something important.

"Everything," Felicity affirmed quickly, before Oliver could speak.

Smoak paused, looking between the two of them as they sat united on the step. Oliver thought he might have glimpsed a crafty expression pass momentarily over Smoak's face, but it was gone before he could be sure. After a long moment, Smoak said to Felicity, "Well, I'm sure he told you as much as he felt he could. It's clear Oliver cares for you very much and goes out of his way to protect you."

Oliver felt anger spark in his chest. Evidently the man was still willing to try to separate Felicity from him if he thought it might encourage her to turn to her father. Planting doubts, implying that Oliver was keeping secrets was a good way to start. He had clearly misjudged Smoak.

Before he could respond, however, Felicity diffused his anger by responding calmly, "Yes, Dad. We talked about it all, including dear old Grandad and the fact that I'm an Heir to the Demon." She stared resolutely at Smoak and said, "Don't even go there, Dad. I've got a hundred reasons to trust Oliver. I don't have any to trust you. I said he told me everything and I believe him."

Smoak looked at her confident face and was wise enough to drop it. "I'm sorry, Felicity," he said honestly, "I shouldn't have implied…" He cleared his throat. "I… just want what's best for you. Like any father, I suppose." His eyes traveled to the empty wine glass on the step and he nodded toward it nervously. "Is that for me? I could really use some wine. You're not exactly making this easy."

She laughed softly, "Growing up without a father wasn't easy, Dad." But she turned toward Oliver, her face softening. "I'm okay – you can pour him a glass if he wants one."

Oliver reached around her for the bottle, letting his face brush hers as he did so. Whatever happened, she had to know that he was there for her - first and always. He poured the third glass and held it out to Smoak, who stepped in to take it then backed quickly away. It was as if he realized he didn't belong in the same space Oliver and Felicity shared.

Smoak swallowed some wine. "Did you two decide what you want to do? The offer to help you disappear still holds."

Felicity smiled briefly at Oliver then turned to her father, "We talked it over. We're not going to disappear, Dad. We're going to go see Malcolm and Nyssa and tell them that we want nothing to do with the League – make it clear that we're not a threat to either one of them. "

Smoak stared at them both incredulously, then turned to Oliver. "This is your idea?" he asked angily. "Go to Nanda Parbat and confront the League? Tell them about Felicity? And here I thought you had some brains _and_ cared about my daughter."

"Actually," Oliver replied, "this was Felicity's plan. She persuaded me that this is what we should do." He squeezed her hand gently and added, "And I support it."

Smoak shook his head disbelievingly. For the first time during their conversation he looked Felicity straight in the eye without nervousness or guilt. "You're crazy, Felicity…absolutely crazy. Do you know how many things could go wrong? They could decide to kill you right there. They could arrange an accident during your trip home. They could lock you up." He snorted loudly, "Hell, what makes you think they're even going to believe you? They might think you're making up the whole 'Ra's is my grandfather' story as some kind of play to get Oliver back in power. No," he continued doggedly, "it will be much safer and easier if you just disappear."

"Easier for whom, Dad?" Felicity's voice lost its calm. She stared back, her anger matching her father's. "You forget that I've lived with being on the other end of the disappearing equation – I've been the one whose been left behind. It's definitely not easy. You spend years wondering whether someone you love is dead, hurt, or just doesn't care about you anymore. Every holiday is tainted." She sat taller on the step. "We can't do that to Oliver's sister or to Mom, for that matter. Can you even imagine what that would be like for her…to have no family left at all?"

"So tell the both of them. Just don't tell the League."

Felicity shook her head firmly. "No…I want what family I have left to be in my life. I don't want it to be a phone call once a year and an email when I think it's safe. Plus, it would be putting a burden on them to make them keep my secret." She lowered her voice. "And seriously, Dad, how well has disappearing worked for you? Are you happy?"

"At least I'm alive."

She frowned. "It doesn't seem like much of a life to me." She turned to look at Oliver. "Tell me you're still okay with this?"

He nodded and brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek. She gave him a small smile, then returned to her father. Her voice softened, "You know, Dad, this could be your chance too. Once the secret's out, you don't have to protect me anymore. You could stop hiding and have a life again. You could even be a part of my life." She looked at Smoak almost hopefully. "You could come with us to Nanda Parbat. They might believe us more easily if you come." It was an olive branch.

But Smoak never even considered it. Oliver watched his face and realized that, however much he might want to care for Felicity, that caring didn't extend to putting his life at risk. He'd told himself for years that his decision to walk away was all about protecting his wife and daughter, but it was apparent now that it had been as much about self-preservation as it had been about his family's safety. And Oliver could see he was prepared to walk away again.

Felicity must have come to the same realization. Oliver could feel her almost deflate next to him and he hoped desperately that she wasn't feeling abandoned all over again. He was angry with himself for making this meeting happen, for giving her optimism and then causing her pain.

Whatever she might be feeling, however, her voice was steady. "Then Dad, I don't think we have anything further to talk about."

Smoak stared at her for a long moment. "Please, Felicity."

She shook her head. "No. You're doing what you think is best for you. I have to do what I think is best for me. I'm sorry they aren't the same things."

Smoak knew he was beat. He looked at the two of them on the step, united and determined, and didn't even approach to return his wine glass. He lowered it to the sand and said, "I wish you both the best, I really do. But I think you're making a mistake." He started to walk away.

About ten feet out he circled back to face them. "Oh, I almost forgot. This arrived at my house on my eighteenth birthday. There was no note, but I always assumed it was from my father. Maybe you can use it." He dug into his pocket, pulled something out and tossed it to Oliver. It looked like some kind of medal.

Then he turned and left.

Oliver looked at Felicity. Her eyes were clearly sad, but there didn't seem to be much pain and there was no sign of tears. He lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her tight against him and resting his cheek on her head.

"Felicity, I'm so sorry I asked you to do this. Are you okay?"

She sighed shakily. "I think so. I didn't get my hopes up – too much – so there's not a lot to be disappointed about." She picked up her wine and took a long swallow. "It is pretty depressing to find out that your dad left you because he's a coward – but I also realized today that's his issue and not mine. At least I know there's nothing Mom or I could have done to get him to stay."

"I'm glad for that."

She stared at the path her father had taken on the beach before shaking her head and adding, "You know, Oliver, it's odd to think that if we ever have children, my mother will be the grandparent we'll most want them to take after."

Oliver wasn't sure whether he should laugh, but he did anyway. That remark made him truly believe that Felicity was on the mend.

He almost immediately became concerned again, however, when she pulled away from him to look down over her shoulder. She had a worried frown on her face.

"Felicity, what is it?"

She met his eyes. "I was just checking… to see if the monkey was off my back."

He smiled, relieved. "Here, I'll check for you." He made a great show of examining her. "I think there still might be a chimp there – a tiny, baby chimp…" He paused, "Oh no, wait…there he goes." He patted her leg. "No more monkey."

"Good to hear." And she slid back close to him again.

They continued drinking their wine. The sun set gloriously over the ocean, giving off beautiful beams of orange light before disappearing under the horizon. Oliver was going to miss these sunsets.

"Oliver?" Her voice was tentative.

"Hmm?"

"Did I wear you out last night?"

He laughed. "Not even close."

"Good, let's go inside."

* * *

To Oliver's surprise, John Diggle's reaction to their plan to meet with Malcolm and Nyssa wasn't all that different from James Smoak's. He summed it up in four words.

"You guys are nuts."

They were sitting in John and Lyla's apartment after a large "welcome back to Starling" dinner that had concluded with a delicious and very smooth brandy. Felicity had spent a good half hour playing on the floor with Sara prior to dinner, and the baby was now sleeping peacefully in her swinging chair. Oliver had also brought Thea with the notion that they would tell their immediate family all at the same time.

Thea's eyes had gotten large as Oliver and Felicity told them about Felicity's background, but she said little. Lyla, ever the analytical operative, couldn't help but ask a few careful questions about proof, but also mainly listened. John, of course, already knew the story; he just didn't know what Felicity and Oliver had decided to do. Clearly, he was not on board with the plan.

"What on earth made you think this was a good idea?" he asked them angrily.

Oliver gave him a pointed look. "I believe you gave Felicity your 'secrets have weight' speech."

Diggle snorted. "Maybe I should have been clearer. I'm all for sharing secrets with the people who care about us. I'm perfectly fine with keeping them from our enemies."

Oliver laughed, he couldn't help it.

Felicity did her best to explain. "John, I just didn't want this hanging over us for the next twenty years. I want to know how Malcolm and Nyssa are going to react so that we can at least plan for it. And I think I can do enough damage to Merlyn Global's finances to make Malcolm think hard before he tries anything." She turned suddenly to Thea, "Oh my God, I hope that doesn't mean I'd be taking away your fortune."

To Oliver's surprise, Thea merely shrugged. "I'll manage." He felt incredibly proud of her.

"So what's the next step?" Diggle asked practically.

Oliver replied, "Felicity needs a few days to get her logic bombs planted into Merlyn Global's systems. And if you don't mind, John, I would like a chance to spar. It's been a while."

"Not a problem, Oliver."

"After that," Oliver continued, "Felicity and I head back to Nanda Parbat to meet with Merlyn and Nyssa."

The room was quiet for a moment, the only the sound the soft tick-tick of Sara's swinging chair.

"You realize," Diggle said, "that I plan to go with you."

Oliver glanced at John and then Lyla. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking."

Felicity said, "Maybe you should discuss it with Lyla."

John looked at his wife and she looked back.

"We just discussed it," Diggle said, "she's good."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but the plan is to finish this story in another chapter or two and focus full time on 'Felicity Takes a Holiday.' To folks who are still reading, thanks for sticking with it.

It took John Diggle five minutes to decide that putting Palmer Technologies’ board of directors together in one room was pretty much like following a recipe for asshole soup. There were eleven directors – ten men and one woman (so much for diversity), and each one was its own, unique flavor of asshole. He’d guarded a number of corporate titans during his years in private security, and directors were always the people he’d had the least patience with; they got paid an exorbitant amount of money for attending a handful of meetings, talking about market share and return on sales without ever being responsible for either. But Palmer’s board had to be the absolute worst. Between the directors who thought they were tech geniuses, the stodgy accountants, and the cover-your-ass lawyers, there wasn’t a decent person among them. And today’s meeting really did not bode well -- he was certain the board had convened to tell Felicity Smoak that she was being ousted as CEO of Palmer Technologies before she’d even had a chance to start.

In the end, however, it didn’t work out that way. And that was entirely due to one very blonde IT expert.

Digg was sure that Felicity had too much on her plate without this lousy meeting. Over the last four days she’d been kidnapped, reunited with her long lost father, and informed that her grandfather had been a psychopathic megalomaniac who, incidentally, had been killed by her boyfriend. Not your average week. Most women – hell, most CIA operatives with twenty years’ experience withstanding interrogation techniques – would be blubbering idiots. He counseled Felicity to blow off the meeting until they’d taken care of their League of Assassins problem.

But Felicity had insisted on going ahead with it. To execute _her_ mission, she’d said -- to keep the League of Assassins at bay -- she needed resources available only at Palmer Tech. So that meant becoming CEO of Palmer Tech, which also meant facing the board. Thus, she had agreed to this meeting and stood in front of the directors now, at least twenty years younger than each and every one of them. She and Oliver had both agreed that it would be best if Mr. Queen didn’t attend, given the sticky relationship between Queen Consolidated and Palmer Technologies. She had conceded, however, to have Diggle come as her bodyguard.

The meeting started out well enough. The board thanked Felicity for her service and dedication as vice president and Felicity told them how grateful she was for the opportunities she’d had at Palmer. The directors noted that there were several very interesting projects in the pipeline and Felicity agreed that, yes, she and Ray had been working on some groundbreaking tech. Palmer’s sales and share price should skyrocket when those projects came to fruition. Everyone smiled at each other.  
  
The meeting went downhill from there.

With chilly politeness the board Chairman observed that few Fortune 500 companies had 25year old CEO’s, and at those that did, the CEO did not attain the position by sleeping with her predecessor. The Chairman also commented that, degree from MIT notwithstanding, the qualifications Mr. Palmer had clearly appreciated in Ms. Smoak – namely her short, form-fitting dresses accompanied by a killer pair of legs – were not sufficient to lead a company. As attractive as her…qualifications… were, the board was really looking for something more in their next CEO. So they’d engaged a search firm and hoped that Ms. Smoak would save everyone embarrassment by resigning.

Felicity listened to all of this patiently, looking at each director in turn with a politeness that equaled theirs. Diggle thought the board’s comments would have at least caused her to blush, but instead she looked remarkably composed. She waited until the Chairman finished speaking and allowed a little time for an uncomfortable silence as his words sunk in. Then she stepped up to the plate.

She started by noting that she and Ray had worked very closely on those new projects the directors had mentioned. She reminded them that, given the complete destruction of his lab and records following the explosion, most of that groundbreaking technology now resided only in _her_ head. If the directors really believed Ray’s appreciation was chiefly for her legs and not her mind, she’d be happy to take that mind elsewhere – and they could kiss the profits and share price goodbye. And she stated that, degrees from Harvard and Wharton notwithstanding, a bunch of MBA’s and lawyers were hardly good judges of technical qualifications. The directors’ polite smiles faded to thoughtful frowns.

Her coup de grace, however, was her recitation of the perils of the internet -- with an emphasis on how nothing was _ever_ really private, including director email and a certain Chairman’s use of websites such as Ashley Madison. Any hacker worth her salt could uncover _all sorts_ of information; if it was online, she could find it. She threw in enough ugly detail to make a number of board members squirm in their seats, and implied that their spouses would be in for some unpleasant surprises should Ms. Smoak be required to resign. The thoughtful frowns were replaced by worried expressions.

She then said that she was going to step out to powder her nose and would be back in ten minutes. She thought those minutes might offer the board a good opportunity to reassess their opinion of her qualifications. She smiled modestly as she left the boardroom, giving every director a very good view of those killer legs.

Digg followed her down the hallway. When they were out of earshot he said, “Really, Felicity? Do you think it was a good idea to blackmail Palmer’s board into keeping you as CEO?”

She shrugged, “Blackmail is such an ugly word, John. They questioned my technical ability and I gave them a short demonstration of what I can do with a computer. I prefer to think of it as a job interview.” When he didn’t smile she added, “Look, normally I would have liked to have handled it differently, but we don’t have a lot of time. I’m going to have more leverage with Malcolm Merlyn if he thinks I have money and other resources at my disposal. What better than being the CEO of a high-tech company?”

“Other resources such as?”

“I’m not sure yet. A plane, Ray’s tech…”

Diggle shook his head, slightly bewildered. “Well, all I can say is that was quite a show you put on in there. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

She laughed, “I’ll do that from time to time. Do you think it’s been ten minutes?”

Digg looked at his watch, “It’s only been five.”

“Close enough, let’s go back.”

It was his turn to laugh. “You’re very confident. Who are you and what have you done with Felicity Smoak?”

She grinned up at him. “I’m not sure, but for some reason I’m feeling powerful today. Let’s not waste it.”

They stepped back into the boardroom and the Chairman rose from his seat. He’d squirmed more than most when Felicity had listed the information she’d found online. The smile he pasted on his face now didn’t look the least bit genuine. Nevertheless, he held out his hand.

“Welcome aboard, Ms. Smoak, let me be the first to congratulate you on your new role as CEO. The board is looking forward to Palmer’s growth under your leadership.”

She shook his hand. “Thank you very much. I can assure you I will do everything in my power to take Palmer Technologies to the next level. I am overwhelmed by the board’s confidence.” Diggle was impressed - she managed to say it with a perfectly straight face.

Perhaps the Chairman was a little impressed too. Still holding her hand, he looked Felicity directly in the eye and said, “It’s clear to me, Ms. Smoak, that we _all_ will benefit from your success as CEO. I’m sure my fellow directors are with me on this. If there is ever anything we can do to help, please be sure to let us know.” He started to step away.

“Actually, there is.”

He turned back, surprised. “Yes?”

“Can you issue a press release about my appointment? I have some…business travel…coming up and I think it would be helpful if the people I’m meeting have no doubts about my role at Palmer.”

The Chairman frowned, “I suppose we can do that. Who exactly are you meeting with?”

“Oh, just a potential customer for some of that new technology you mentioned. I’d really like to make an impression.” Felicity smiled and gathered up her purse, signaling that the meeting was over. “Thank you again gentlemen….and …lady. It’s been a pleasure meeting you all. And now I really have to run. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m taking the corporate jet for a few days. I need to arrive at my…meetings… well rested. Flying commercial isn’t going to get me there.” She nodded at everyone in the room, “It’s been very nice talking with you. Thank you again for confirming Ray’s decision to appoint me as CEO. I know he would be pleased.”

And with that, she darted out of the boardroom and headed down the hallway. Diggle found he had to move quickly to catch up to her. As they stepped into the elevator, he looked down at her blonde head and thought about the Felicity Smoak who had just taken on Palmer’s board of directors. She was a very different woman from the one he’d met three years ago, or even worked with six months ago. The Felicity he’d first met had been confident about her technical skills, but that confidence hadn’t extended to other areas of her life. The Felicity who had just handled the board had been one very self-assured young woman. She’d come into her own.

It was funny, he thought, the way things worked out. For a long time he’d believed that Felicity Smoak would be good for Oliver Queen. It had never occurred to him that Oliver Queen might be just as good for Felicity Smoak.

* * *

Oliver had suggested they try to sleep on the flight to Nanda Parbat but no one, himself included, was taking that suggestion. They were too wired – all four of them – and talking was the only outlet for their tension. In the comfort of the corporate jet, they sat in large leather seats around a small table and covered a list of random subjects, mostly catching each other up on their lives. He and Felicity told Thea and John about their time in the bungalow south of Coast City and John provided some baby Sara stories that made them smile. They behaved like any four friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while, and their conversation included just about anything -- anything, that is, except what might happen when the plane landed. At some point, Thea managed to nod off.

She had insisted on coming, despite Oliver’s protests. She maintained that Merlyn, even as the new Ra’s, still cared enough about his daughter’s approval to think twice before doing something that could lead to her estrangement. Oliver thought she was giving Malcolm too much paternal credit and, based on Felicity’s frown, he was pretty sure she felt the same. However, he couldn’t argue with Thea’s second assertion – that she could kick ass with the best of them. His sister’s skills were impressive and growing all the time. For all he disliked and distrusted Merlyn, Oliver had to give him credit for one thing; he had helped his sister grow from a petulant adolescent to one very tough young woman. He hoped they wouldn’t need her fighting skills, but it couldn’t hurt to have them.

With Thea asleep, the three of them fell into their usual pattern of talk interrupted by spells of comfortable silence. Oliver found he couldn’t stop watching Felicity. With their barriers finally lowered these last few months, they had grown incredibly close – closer than he’d been with anyone in his life. He was aware that if things went south in Nanda Parbat they might never spend another night together, and he wanted to hang onto every opportunity for connection. At one point, she got up for a drink of water and he couldn’t help but catch her around the waist and pull her into his seat, burying his nose in her hair. Trying to lighten the mood, he grinned apologetically at Diggle for the display and said loud enough for John to hear, “Felicity, you’re sure you don’t want to go with Plan B? It’s not too late. We could tell the pilot to head south and just keep flying.”

Diggle raised his eyebrows. “Plan B?” he asked. “You mean you guys had another option besides this hair-brained scheme and you didn’t share it?”

Felicity smiled, “It wasn’t a serious option. Plan B was we take on new identities and run away to New Zealand to run a vineyard.”

Digg considered it for a moment. “Sounds like a pretty damn good idea to me,” he said.

She shrugged, “Yeah, well, unfortunately, neither Oliver nor I know much about wine besides how to drink it. We’d probably be broke in a couple of years.”

“Maybe. But it would be a good couple of years.”

“True.”

They grew quiet again. Felicity made no effort to get out of Oliver’s seat. Her back rested comfortably against his chest and one hand held onto his wrist as if it were her lifeline. It felt good. He decided that if things worked out, they were going to spend at least 30 minutes a day like this, no matter how busy their lives got.

“Seriously, guys,” he said more soberly, “we’re all straight on what we have to do?”

Felicity and Digg both nodded. “How far do you think we’ll get,” she asked, “before they find us?”

Oliver frowned, “Ra’s showed me a couple of different routes under the mountain, but he didn’t trust me enough to share his most secret tunnels. Some of the routes are more heavily guarded than others, but they all have some level of surveillance. Someone will grab us before we make it to Merlyn or Nyssa. I’m just hoping we get a good twenty minutes before they do.”

Felicity squeezed his hand. “Twenty minutes should be plenty for me. If they catch us right at the plane it’s going to be harder.”

“I know. We’ll hope for the best.”

Felicity played nervously with the cuff of his shirt, keeping her eyes down. “I love you both,” she said suddenly, “you know that, right?”

Oliver looked over her head at Diggle. John’s eyes met Oliver’s and he smiled slightly. “We know that, Felicity.”

“Good.”

* * *

  
They arrived in the evening, the fading twilight giving them a little cover as they left the plane. They entered the mountain by way of the catacombs, but Oliver quickly diverted them through a narrow side tunnel to a passage that he knew was little used. It took them past a number of storage rooms filled with surplus armor and weaponry, as well as more mundane items like candles, linens and clothing. There were even a couple of well-stocked wine cellars. Felicity raised her eyebrows when she saw them and murmured softly, “Wow. Is it too late to reconsider my inheritance?” Oliver grinned despite his worries.

They got their twenty minutes plus a few more before the League found them. One instant they were moving silently in the semi-darkness and the next they were surrounded by a dozen League soldiers. A few of the soldiers hesitated when they saw their Al-Sah-him, but only briefly; allegiance to the Ra’s was too ingrained for any single Assassin to break ranks. Looking into their almost lifeless eyes, Oliver wondered if any of them were among the group mentioned by James Smoak – the Assassins who didn’t like Merlyn as their new Ra’s. If they were, there was no way to know it. The men (and, for all he knew with their faces covered, women) who circled them now showed no emotion.

There was no fight. Oliver and Diggle had agreed previously they would surrender at once. After all, the plan was to _talk_ to Merlyn and Nyssa, not physically threaten them. Thea, whose memories of Nanda Parbat were muddled from her revival in the pit, stared at the Assassins with wide eyes. Oliver couldn’t tell if it was fear or a desire to test her skills. She had been very quiet as they moved through the tunnels, but he could sense the energy pulsing in her. Felicity, on the other hand, was surprisingly calm. She stood close to him, her hand resting on the small of his back. The only indication she gave of nerves was occasionally clutching his shirt.

Apparently the return of Al-Sah-him was sufficient news for the Assassins to bring the four of them immediately to their Ra’s. One of Oliver’s many worries had been that they might not get the chance to talk to Merlyn or Nyssa – that they would be thrown into a cell and forgotten -- but that turned out not to be the case. They were quickly herded through the tunnels, and emerged to find Merlyn seated in the large hall watching some of his Assassins train. In the flickering light of the torches, there was an odd, choreographed beauty to their movements as they sparred. Oliver could not help but be impressed by their skill and coordination, and Merlyn looked equally pleased with their performance. There was a tray of fruit next to his chair, and he sipped occasionally from a large goblet. For a 21st century businessman who had run a large conglomerate in Starling City, he appeared thoroughly at home in the ancient surroundings of Nanda Parbat. Oliver wondered whether he cared about Merlyn Global any longer, and if Felicity’s threat of destroying his finances with logic bombs would be as effective as she had hoped.

“Oliver,” Merlyn greeted them, not bothering to stand. “This is an unexpected…” he hesitated, “I would say _pleasure_ but I’m going to stick with _surprise_ until I know the reason for your visit.” His eyes swept across the four of them and lingered when they found Thea. There was real emotion in his voice when he added, “Daughter, it warms my heart to see you.”

Thea shifted uneasily on her feet. “Yeah, well, Dad…I wish I could say the same.” There was no warmth in her voice whatsoever.

He smiled as if she had welcomed him with a loving hug. Turning back to Oliver he added with a chuckle, “So – clearly -- you’re not here because your sister wanted to see her father. Care to tell me why you _did_ come? It’s pretty…ballsy… of you to walk into the headquarters of the League when you’re no longer part of it – when, in fact, you killed the last Ra’s. I trust you don’t want this back.” He raised the hand wearing the Demon’s ring.

Oliver shook his head. “Far from it. But I have some information regarding Ra’s -- the previous Ra’s -- that might be of interest.”

“And you came all the way to the Hindu Kush Mountains to tell me? That must be some news.”

Felicity spoke before Oliver had a chance to respond, “Well, we would have sent an email, but this isn’t exactly a WiFi hotspot.”

Merlyn’s gaze shifted toward her. “Ms. Smoak,” he said, managing to both acknowledge and dismiss her in the same breath. “I’m doubly surprised to see _you_ here, given that you have no skills that could be of any use in Nanda Parbat. As you say, we’re not exactly _on the grid_. But then I suppose you continue to follow him around,” he nodded at Oliver, “like a faithful puppy.” He glanced past her at Diggle. “Oh, I see you brought _both_ your loyal sidekicks, Oliver. Are they here to protect you, or are you three so joined at the hip that you can’t go anywhere without them?”

Diggle frowned, but Oliver didn’t rise to the bait. Merlyn’s gibe wasn’t important. “Probably some of both,” he said mildly. “Look, Malcolm, I’m happy to give you our information and leave,” he continued, “but I’d prefer to do it once. Is Nyssa here? This affects her as well and she should hear it.”  
  
Merlyn waved his hand scornfully. “Nyssa tends to be anywhere that I am not. She’s having a hard time adjusting to my…ascendency.”

“An ascendency that is the result of luck, not skill or bloodline.” Nyssa’s voice carried clearly across the hall. They all turned to watch her approach with long, confident strides. Apparently he wasn’t the only one with ballsy moves, Oliver thought. For all intents and purposes, she had just questioned the supremacy of the Ra’s in front of a hall full of Assassins.

“I heard you had arrived, Husband,” she said smoothly to Oliver when she joined their group. “Have you come at last to take your place with your wife?”

Felicity’s eyes narrowed.

It was a clever thing to say, Oliver thought – or at least clever if Nyssa were aware of a faction that wanted to remove Merlyn. If James Smoak’s information was accurate, a group of Assassins thought Al-Sah-him and Nyssa together were a better choice than Merlyn to lead the League. Letting the Assassins know that she considered herself married to Al-Sah-him was an announcement that she was willing to go along with that plan. On the other hand, she was also taking a big risk. The Assassins had a tradtion of hundreds of years of obedience to the Ra’s; by challenging Merlyn, she was betting that some of them were willing to break with that tradition. He glanced around the hall. Nothing had changed since his time here. The Assassins continued to train, and the servants and sentries carried out their duties robotically. There was no indication that any of them were listening or even had thoughts of their own.

Either way, he had to make it clear to all that he was not her husband. He shook his head. “Nyssa, you know that wedding was forced upon us by your father. Consent was not freely given – in fact, I recall you trying to kill me as the ceremony started.” He thought he heard a small snort come from Diggle. “It hardly counts as a marriage.”

She shrugged. “It was a wedding ceremony according to our laws and customs,” she said calmly. “That gives me the right to call you Husband. The fact that you continue to keep company with,” she glanced pointedly at Felicity, “other women does not alter the circumstances. In time you will understand this.” She was annoyingly complacent.

“Was it consummated?” Felicity asked suddenly, her voice as clear and audible as Nyssa’s. The question – in all its bluntness -- took everyone by surprise. They turned from Nyssa to stare at the blonde, and Oliver even thought a couple of the Assassins might have hesitated during their sparring.

The daughter of Ra’s al Ghul stiffened and her aloof mask slipped a little. “I beg your pardon?” she asked coolly.

“Your marriage to Oliv…Al-Sah-him. Was it ever consummated?”

Nyssa pursed her lips, and then walked toward Felicity until she was standing inches away from her. It was an obvious intimidation tactic; at nearly six feet, she towered over the younger woman and she was heavily armed as well. She smiled smoothly, “Suppose I say that it was?”

“I’d say you were a liar.”

The smile faded and the two women stared at each other. Felicity had to tilt her head back to look the taller female in the eye, but her gaze never wavered. Oliver was torn between loving her for her courage, and hating that she was displaying it to the entire League. If they’d wanted to convince the Assassins that Felicity was too mild to ever want to assume her inheritance, taking on Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter was not a good start.

To Oliver’s surprise, Nyssa blinked first. She took a step back and broke eye contact with Felicity. “We were interrupted before we could have a proper wedding night,” she conceded quietly. “But that doesn’t negate the fact that we were married in a true ceremony.”

It was Felicity’s turn to smile. “By almost any custom in the world, if a wedding isn’t consummated after a certain amount of time, the marriage is null and void. I’m guessing it isn’t too different in Nanda Parbat.”

Nyssa hesitated, clearly reconsidering her argument. She must have decided that defending her marriage was a losing battle, because her next words signaled a change in tactics. “I don’t understand why this is so important to you,” she said to Felicity. “ _You_ can have no prior claim on Al-Sah-him -- I can’t imagine _you’ve_ consummated a relationship with him. My Sara always told me that your affection was not reciprocated. She said it was merely a girlish infatuation.”

Felicity flushed. “At one time that may have been true,” she said evenly, “but it is no longer the case.” She looked up at Oliver and there was heat and knowledge in that look – nothing girlish whatsoever. “I have been with Al-Sah... _Oliver_...” she corrected and her flush deepened, “for some time now. So, yes, I would say I have a prior claim.”

Oliver groaned internally -- things were getting out of hand. Hearing two women dispute his sex life was hardly what he thought he’d be doing when they came to Nanda Parbat. But even more importantly, far from demonstrating her lack of interest and suitability, Felicity seemed to be doing everything in her power to appear attractive to the League – she was courageous, quick-witted, and in a committed relationship with their Al-Sah-him. If anyone found out she was of Ra’s bloodline, as Smoak believed, then they probably _would_ be convinced that she and Oliver should replace Merlyn. He stole a glance at the current Ra’s. The man had a large grin on his face and was clearly enjoying the female battle of wills.

The grin turned into a laugh as he said, “Well, this is certainly more entertaining than I was expecting. You must find it flattering, Oliver, to have these ladies fighting over you.” He paused and said more soberly, “However, I don’t think this is why you came. Perhaps it’s time for you to enlighten Nyssa and myself with your news.”

Oliver nodded, relieved to be back on task. “Do you want to talk here? Or should we go someplace more private?”

Merlyn shrugged, “Here is fine. The League’s loyalty to the Ra’s is absolute.”

_You’d better hope_ , Oliver thought.

He took a deep breath and told Merlyn and Nyssa the whole story. It was the third time that he’d had to tell it, and he found the words rolling out easily; Felicity’s kidnapping, the kidnapper being her father, and James Smoak discovering that _his_ father had been Ra’s al Ghul. He certainly had their attention; they didn’t interrupt -- not once. Merlyn listened to it with a skeptical frown, but Nyssa showed more emotion. When he got to the part where Felicity was Ra’s granddaughter -- another Heir to the Demon – she clenched her fists and stared at the blonde so hard that Digg felt obliged to put his body between the two women. And when Oliver finished there was a long silence, broken only by the clank of swords as the Assassins continued to spar.

“Well, Oliver,” Merlyn said at last, “that’s quite a story. If I believe you – and that’s a big if – what on earth did you hope to gain by coming here and telling me? You certainly can’t expect me to think that _she_ ,” he gestured derisively at Felicity, “wants to claim her rightful place as an Heir. She may be brave, but she’s hardly a warrior.”

There were many things Oliver wanted to say in defense of Felicity – that she had blazing intelligence, intense loyalty, and unwavering optimism – but now was definitely not the time to play up her strengths. So he merely said, “No, she does not want to claim her place. In fact, we’re here to make it clear to you and Nyssa that we will never make a claim. But if Smoak’s information from inside the League is correct, there is a faction who would like to see you deposed in favor of a blood Heir. Now they have another choice in addition to Nyssa.”

“Several choices, actually,” Nyssa said slowly. “If your story is true, I have a half-brother and sister who are also Heirs.” She sounded less angry than Oliver had expected. He’d thought she would be threatened by the notion that she was not Ra’s only child, but instead she seemed curious.

Merlyn snorted, “None of whom have any training. The League would hardly see them as worthy to be Ra’s.” He shook his head. “I’m still not saying I believe any of this, but even if it’s true, you can’t be that foolish.” He glanced around the hall. “There are three of you, surrounded by hundreds of Assassins, thousands of miles from home. What’s to say I don’t just make you disappear? Problem solved.”

Thea stepped forward, “There are four of us, Dad, not three. And if anything happens to Ollie or his friends, I swear I will no longer be your daughter – I will never see you, or speak to you. And if you try to see me,” she continued tersely, “I’ll do my best to kill you.”

Merlyn gazed at her, his face a mixture of amusement and pride. “I believe you mean what you say, Thea – you are definitely my daughter -- but _never_ is a long time. In due course, you may come to understand the responsibilities that go along with being Ra’s. It may take years, but I’d like to think that you will eventually forgive me. Blood always wins out in the end.”

Thea shook her head angrily, but before she could say anything, Felicity spoke up. “I had a feeling you’d say something like that,” she said to Merlyn. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted, so I came here with a backup plan.” She regarded him warily. “You may live most of the time in Nanda Parbat now, but you have a lot of wealth and resources still in Starling City. A _lot_. That wealth has to mean something to you.” There was nothing on his face that acknowledged that as a true statement. He looked curious, but unconcerned. She shifted uneasily. “I can…I _will_ make all of it go away if you don’t let us leave. I’ve planted logic bombs in Merlyn Global’s systems that will go off unless I’m around to disable them. Stock, cash, inventory – it will all disappear.” When Merlyn still appeared unfazed, she added in a rush, “Your IT guys could look for years and not find the code. You’ll lose everything.”

It was the same speech they’d practiced on the plane, but Oliver thought it would have been more effective if Felicity had said it with confidence. For some reason, the courage that she’d shown facing Nyssa seemed to have deserted her in front of Merlyn. He sat there looking completely unworried – amused really – as if he were saying _is this all you’ve got?_ And, for some reason, she suddenly couldn’t stand still. She played anxiously with her hands, clasping and unclasping them, touching her earrings and her necklace. Her nerves were overtaking her. Oliver glanced at Diggle and saw that he was thinking the same thing.

And so, apparently, was Merlyn. He smiled at Felicity before saying smoothly, “That’s a nice threat, Ms. Smoak, and I have no doubt that you can do what you say.” He shrugged, “But I’ve learned that the Ra’s has such great wealth in his own right that – as much as I might miss Merlyn Global – I think I will be fine without it. You can’t imagine the gold and other resources that are stored here. So, _A for effort_ , but I’m not feeling terribly influenced by your warning.” He sat back in his seat with a satisfied grin.

Felicity stopped fidgeting to stare at him, bringing her fluttering hands down to her sides. There was a brief silence and – suddenly -- they all were startled by a low rumble. It sounded a bit like an earthquake, only there was no movement in the hall. As Merlyn stood up, several Assassins stopped sparring to surround him in a protective circle. “Go now,” Merlyn ordered two of the Assassins sharply, “find out what happened.” They bowed their heads and left.

“I think they’ll find,” Felicity said, in a voice much steadier than it had been a minute ago, “that there was an explosion in one of the wine cellars.” She glanced at Oliver with a small smile before turning back to Merlyn. “I had a feeling that you might not care too much about Merlyn Global – even though it seems like an _awful_ lot of money to lose – so I figured I should have a backup plan for the backup plan.” She watched as the Ra’s lowered himself uneasily back into his chair. “You probably don’t get the Wall Street Journal out here, but I’m CEO of Palmer Technologies now. I have access to some pretty amazing tech. Before his disappearance,” she blinked hard for a moment, “Ray and I were working on miniaturization technology. You know, tiny medical devices, robots the size of a pin, that kind of stuff. Among other things, we found a way to pack an awful lot of energy into a device the size of quarter.” She paused. “When those devices are detonated, it’s the equivalent of…oh, I don’t know how many pounds, but I’m sure it’s a lot… of plastic explosives.”

Merlyn and Nyssa both stared at her. Oliver could swear he saw a little admiration in Nyssa’s eyes.

“Anyway,” Felicity continued, “we managed to hide a couple…dozen… of those quarter-sized devices before your Assassins caught us. They’re small enough to be anywhere, really. I _am_ sorry about the wine. That really does seem like a waste. I’ll bet you have some amazing vintages here.”

Merlyn continued to study her, then suddenly motioned to one of the Assassins. “Take her earrings,” he ordered abruptly. The Assassin looked confused. “Her earrings,” Merlyn said again, “take them.” The Assassin’s brow wrinkled, but only for a second – years of subservience won out. He stepped over to Felicity and held out his hand. She looked at Merlyn, puzzled.

“If you’ve planted explosives,” Merlyn explained to her, “then you must have a signaling device to set them off. You were playing with your earrings for the last five minutes. Hand them over.”

She frowned at him. “Really? I like these -- they were a Hanukkah gift from my mom.” When he didn’t respond she sighed regretfully and removed the earrings from her lobes, placing them in the Assassin’s hand. “If you’re going for my jewelry,” she said, “you might as well take this too – although I think it really belongs to Nyssa.” She reached behind her neck to unclasp a gold chain. The medallion James Smoak had given her on the beach hung from it. “My dad said his father left it for him on his eighteenth birthday,” she told Nyssa. “I’m not sure of its significance, but I brought it because I thought it might back up our story. If it was your father’s, then it should be yours.” She handed it to Ra’s daughter. “I promise it’s not a signaling device.”

Nyssa stared at the medallion.  "This is traditional," she said quietly.  "A gift a father gives to his oldest child."   She looked at Felicity with an odd expression. Oliver remembered Felicity telling him that she thought Nyssa felt a small attraction to her. Listening to them argue a half hour ago, he would have sworn that she couldn’t be more wrong. But as he watched Ra’s daughter now, he began to wonder. It would be an exaggeration to say her glance was tender, but she certainly appeared appreciative. Her gaze moved slowly from Felicity’s youthful face, down her body, lingering a long moment on Felicity’s backside. Well, holy shit, Oliver thought, Felicity was right. The woman _wouldn’t_ mind getting into her pants. Wasn’t this a day full of surprises.

There was another low rumble.

They all looked toward Felicity. “I’m not a hundred percent sure,” she said matter-of-factly, “but I think that’s one of the store rooms with the linens. I hope you don’t keep all your toilet paper there. That could be unpleasant.” She looked at the earrings, still in the Assassin’s palm, then smiled at Merlyn. “Maybe you’ll figure out what sets them off while you still have some rooms left.”

Malcolm Merlyn was silent for a long moment, clearly nonplussed. He rested his chin on his hand and simply stared at Felicity. At last he clapped his hands, and immediately several servants approached him. “Take my four _guests_ ,” he said slowly, “to living quarters. Please make sure they have anything they need. In the morning, should they wish it, they are free to leave.”

The servants bowed. Merlyn smiled. “Well played, Ms. Smoak,” he said softly.


	11. Chapter 11

The funny thing about Nanda Parbat was that it was kind of a romantic place, if you could forget about the Assassins, the strange pool that brought people back from the dead, and the Ra's himself. Take their room, for example. Felicity and Oliver were escorted to the same room he had occupied as Al-Sah-him, the room where they had made love for the very first time. It was lit only by the subtle, warm glow of dozens of candles and they sat on the floor in a pile of soft rugs and blankets, a crackling fire gently heating their skin. Loathe as she was to admit it, the lack of anything electronic – no television, computer or fluorescent lights – only added to the ambience and Felicity's sense of relaxation. Her head rested on Oliver's shoulder and his hand traced lightly up and down her spine, the motion hypnotic and tantalizing at the same time. As always, his presence made her feel stronger, calmer. She had to remind herself that they weren't out of the woods yet. Malcolm Merlyn could change his mind at any time and send in a bunch of Assassins to kill them. She really hoped he would keep to his word.

  
"Oliver?" she asked tentatively.

  
"Yes?"

  
"Do you think he was telling us the truth?"

  
"Merlyn?"

  
"Yes – do you think he meant what he said about letting us leave in the morning?"

  
Oliver sighed, "I'd like to think so. You can never be sure with Malcolm." He slid his hand gently up to caress the nape of her neck. "There's a couple of factors in our favor. I think Thea is right – he really does care for her. Despite what he said about her eventually forgiving him, I don't think he wants to alienate her." He turned and kissed her temple. "And besides, you certainly gave him a good show."

  
She felt even warmer, with his touch and his compliment. "Thanks."

  
"I take it the earrings were _not_ the signaling device for the nano-explosives," he said after a moment.

  
"You take it correctly."

  
"Care to share with the class how you _did_ set them off? I still don't understand why you couldn't tell John and me before."

  
She patted his thigh. "A couple of reasons. The signaling device was hidden on a fairly…discrete…part of my body. It was too embarrassing to tell John, and I was afraid you might telegraph it to Malcolm if I told you where it was. It seemed best to say nothing."

  
He let that soak in for a minute and then laughed. "Felicity, you never fail to surprise me."

  
She snuggled into his side. "Well, I'm relieved to hear I _can_ still surprise you. Given how much time we've spent together over the last couple of months, I thought you might be bored or at least needing space. You've always wanted time alone in the past."

  
He shrugged. "I know I have, but for some reason now, I don't want it." There was a hint of wonder in his voice as he added, "It's been amazing - I can't recall a time when I've felt more…myself. And boring is the last word I'd use to describe you. I like a woman who knows her explosives."

  
She smiled, "Good to hear."

  
They settled back into silence, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. As the tension and fear of the last two days left her body Felicity felt tired – a good, easy tired. She wondered if she could just close her eyes and fall asleep on Oliver's shoulder. It was solid and comforting, and there were so many worse ways to spend a night.

  
"Felicity?" Now Oliver's voice was tentative.

  
"Hmm?"

  
"Are you still wearing the signaling device?"

  
"Yup. It's…"

  
He stopped her words with a finger against her lips. "Don't tell me. I'd like to find it myself." The fire and candlelight must be getting to him too, she thought, because his voice was low and soft - almost playful. He grinned like a teenager as he pushed her gently down onto her back in the blankets, sliding his hand under her shirt.

  
Her breath hitched, and all at once she didn't feel quite so tired. Oliver moved to lay poised over her, studying her face, watching her every reaction. He did that often when they were together, and she loved the way he always seemed to find pleasure in her pleasure, her excitement fueling his. His hands were warm and dry, inching their way slowly toward her bra, leaving tingles in their wake. She thought about telling him that he should be looking for the signaling device further south, but decided that they had all night and some things really shouldn't be rushed. She closed her eyes and put her hands on his abs, enjoying the hardness and feeling of strength.

  
And there was a knock on the door.

  
The two of them froze instantly. Felicity opened her eyes to see Oliver looking warily into hers before moving off of her. He walked to the door and cautiously opened it to find Nyssa al Ghul standing there.

  
Felicity wasn't sure whether that was better or worse than an Assassin sent to kill them; she reminded herself that it might possibly be the same thing. Nyssa was as highly trained as anyone in Nanda Parbat, and could give Oliver a good run for his money when it came to hand-to-hand combat. Fortunately, she did not look immediately bent on murder. She peered into the room, her dark glance moving from Oliver blocking the doorway to Felicity sitting on the floor in the blankets, still adjusting her bra under her shirt. Felicity expected her to make one of her customary sardonic comments – there could be little doubt what she and Oliver had just been up to – but all Nyssa said was, "I'd like to talk to Felicity."

  
Well, that was...unexpected. It was more than a request but less than a demand, and Felicity could have sworn there was a tiny bit of uncertainty in Nyssa's voice. In fact, Felicity thought Nyssa seemed to lack a little of her legendary self-possession, in general. Oliver must have noticed it too, because he turned toward Felicity and raised one eyebrow in question.

  
She nodded in response, curious about anything that could have Nyssa off balance. "Yes, Oliver, I'll talk with her."

  
He gave her a brief smile of approval. She guessed he was as intrigued by this visit as she was.

  
He stepped away from the door and watched Nyssa closely as she entered the room. Felicity was sure Oliver was checking for hidden weapons, but all Ra's daughter appeared to be carrying was a bottle. It looked very much like a wine bottle and Felicity hoped that it might contain a good Malbec or some other full-bodied red. That would be welcome - assuming, of course, that it wasn't poisoned. She wondered what Nyssa was planning to say that would require wine. It was another thing that felt out of character.

  
She and Oliver both turned toward Nyssa expectantly. Now that she'd come in, however, the woman seemed reluctant to talk. She stared at the candles flickering on the wall and shifted uneasily on her feet. "Alone," she said at last to Oliver. "I'd like to talk to Felicity alone."

  
Oliver's face darkened. "I don't think that's going to happen."

  
Nyssa studied him for a moment, then raised one hand in a peaceful gesture. "I understand your concern," she said slowly, "but I promise you that I will do her no harm." She paused and swallowed hard. "I promise you on the memory of my beloved, Sara."

  
Perhaps the candlelight was making her gullible, Felicity thought, but she believed Nyssa. Ra's daughter might scheme about a lot of things, but she had never been insincere when it came to Sara and Felicity didn't think she was going to start now. Oliver, on the other hand, looked skeptical and Felicity could sense an argument brewing. "It's okay," she said softly to forestall him, "I'll talk to her - It'll be fine." She wanted to say so much more - that her instincts were telling her that speaking alone with Nyssa might lead to some kind of closure, and Felicity wanted closure - that a few minutes alone with Ra's daughter were worth it if they could spend the next twenty years not looking over their shoulders. But instead she smiled reassuringly at Oliver and said, "I've still got the… _thing_ , you know. If I feel like I'm in danger I promise you I'll blow something else up. That'll be your signal to come bursting in to save me."

  
He sighed and smiled back at her, as if he couldn't help himself. "Fine. I'll hold you to that." His smile faded and he gave Nyssa a hard look. "Don't be too long or I may come bursting in anyway."

  
"That's a promise," Felicity agreed.

  
"Okay." And he quietly left the room.

  
There was a moment of silence as Nyssa stared at the door Oliver had just closed behind him. "You're happy with him," she said to Felicity. It was a statement more than a question.

  
"I am."

  
"He's good to you?"

  
Felicity nodded. "He is."

  
Nyssa shrugged, still looking at the door as if it were Oliver himself. "I've never had any luck with men," she said almost wistfully. "They always want to make me into something other than what I am – even my father. In the end he wanted me to be the subservient wife of Al-Sah him, and a brood mare for his line of succession." She added more matter-of-factly, "Perhaps that's why I turned to women. Sara loved me for what I am."

  
"That's a very good thing. I think it's what we all look for – to be loved exactly as we are."

  
With Felicity's words, Nyssa turned to gaze at her inquiringly, and raised the bottle in her hand. "Wine?" she asked. "I thought we might share a bottle now in case you planned to blow up the rest of the cellars."

  
Felicity almost laughed. Nyssa had attempted a joke – who would have thought it? "Wine sounds good," she agreed, "although I hope you don't mind if I ask you to take the first sip."

  
Nyssa frowned, her brief flash of humor over. "If you wish. I think you'll find it to your liking." She found two cups on a shelf and filled each of them almost to the brim with the deep red liquid. She raised one of the cups to her lips and took a long swallow. After a minute she said smoothly, "Well, I appear to still be standing."

  
There were so many ways to respond to that – she could have taken an antidote, the poison might be in the cup and not the wine – but all Felicity said was, "Yes, I see that. I'll take the cup." Nyssa handed it to her, then lowered herself until she was seated next to Felicity on the floor. She stretched her long legs toward the fireplace.

  
"This is nice," she said conversationally, looking about the room. "I supposed you and Al – Sah… _Oliver_ … found it romantic?"

  
It was exactly what Felicity had been thinking fifteen minutes ago and also the last thing she would have expected Nyssa to say. Once again, she was tempted to laugh. Gazing at the cup she had just been handed she took a nervous breath and sipped. As Nyssa had said, the wine was delicious - rich and full, with a smooth finish. She waited anxiously for any sharp pain or shortness of breath, but all she felt was a comfortable warmth in her stomach. No poison, evidently – or at least no fast acting poison. She drank again. "Yes, the room is nice," she concurred, "but that's not what you came here to talk about."

  
Nyssa sighed, "No, that is not what I came to talk about." She swirled her wine slowly, staring at the ruby liquid. She seemed to be having trouble finding words. "I didn't want to believe your story," she said at last, "I find it hard to think that we are related. We are so different. But, upon reflection, I think you spoke the truth. I believe your father is Ra's son and you are his granddaughter – my niece." Felicity wondered how difficult it had been for her to say that, and whether it was good or bad that Nyssa was convinced of their relationship. She waited.

  
"He liked you, you know," Nyssa said suddenly.

  
Felicity frowned. "Who liked me?"

  
"My father. He said you had a fire within you. From him, that is a compliment." She took another generous swallow of wine – she was really motoring through that cup, Felicity thought – then added, "I think he would have been pleased to learn that you are his granddaughter."

  
Felicity smiled ruefully. "Somehow, I doubt that. I was a distraction for his Al-Sah him, an impediment to making him the next Ra's. I think he wished I had never entered Oliver's life."

  
Nyssa shrugged. "Maybe. But the fact that you _could_ be a distraction made you worthy of respect. My father knew a strong man like Oliver wouldn't waste his time on a useless woman."

  
Felicity didn't know how to respond to that. She liked to believe it was true. "What was it like having him for a father?" she asked curiously. "Ra's al Ghul – did you love him?"

  
Nyssa pursed her lips. "Like most father-daughter relationships, it was complicated. I liked to say that I hated him, especially after he selected Oliver to be his successor, but it would be a lie to say that I didn't want his respect and his attention. What daughter doesn't care at all about her father's love?"

  
_What daughter indeed_ , Felicity thought. She recalled the conversation with her father back at the bungalow. By the end she had convinced herself that she was better off without him in her life. Did she mean that, or was it just a hurt reaction to James Smoak's refusal to help with her plan?

  
As if she were reading her mind, Nyssa asked, "What about _your_ father, my…half-brother? What is he like? Do you love _him_?"

  
Felicity took a gulp of wine, surprised to see that _her_ cup was almost empty. She'd been so busy watching Nyssa drain hers that she hadn't realized she'd been keeping up. She withstood the temptation to be glib. For some reason she felt she owed Nyssa an honest answer. "My father left me when I was young and I heard nothing from him for more than 15 years," she said. "I could easily claim that I don't really know him and that he had no impact on my life." She paused and looked into the dark eyes of Ra's daughter - of her aunt. "But that would be a lie. Just the fact that I grew up without a father _had_ an impact. And I do know him, at least somewhat. My father was… _is_ …a brilliant technical thinker. He's logical and he understands probabilities perfectly. In some ways I am like him," she smiled wryly as she continued, "good with computers, not so good with people. But he lacks courage – he would rather hide than fight, and he always makes the safe choice. I hope I am not like him in that respect." She turned away from Nyssa to gaze in the fireplace. "As for love? I don't know. Like you said, father-daughter relationships are complicated. For many years I wondered what was so wrong with me that he was able to leave his daughter. Now I know that it had nothing to do with me – it was his weakness, his problem." She stopped; it was a longer speech than she had intended. She smiled apologetically at Nyssa and waved her cup. "Sorry for going on. _In vino veritas_ , I guess."

  
Nyssa peered into her own cup and then glanced at Felicity's. "Perhaps we could both use a little more truth. I see we've finished our first round." She picked up the bottle, dividing the remaining wine between the two of them. She was about to drink, but then paused to raise her cup. "To fathers and their complications," she toasted.

  
Felicity smiled in spite of herself, and raised hers in return. "To _surviving_ fathers and their complications," she amended. She took a long sip. "This really is delicious. You should have brought two bottles."

  
Nyssa tucked up her knees and pulled her boots off, then pointed her stockinged feet back toward the fireplace. "I'm getting rather comfortable. Perhaps we can convince Oliver to fetch another bottle for us. I'm sure he's right outside the door."

  
Felicity laughed, "I don't think he'd be too happy about that."

  
"Probably not."

  
They sat for a few moments in silence. Felicity felt weightless and just a teeny bit giddy – not drunk, exactly – but not entirely sober either. She'd been tired before Nyssa had come to the room. Now, with wine on top of her fatigue, she felt a like she wasn't in complete control of her faculties. The whole conversation with Nyssa had been surreal and – surprisingly - pleasant. Of all the scenarios she'd played out in her mind before coming to Nanda Parbat, not for a million years did she ever imagine drinking with Ra's daughter and sharing bad father stories. For the first time, Nyssa seemed human.

  
The Heir to the Demon might have felt something similar. Her eyes lost some of their sharpness as she stared into the fire, and her body eased out of its normally taut posture. She eventually shook her head, as if to remind herself of her purpose in coming to see Felicity. "I came here because I wanted to tell you that I would honor your request to be left alone," she said finally, "To let you know that I would try to deflect any talk of you being of Ra's bloodline, to keep you out of any succession arguments that might arise." She turned toward Felicity, and there was unexpected warmth in her gaze. "Now that we've had a chance to talk, however, I'd like to propose something different."

  
Felicity vaguely felt a few alarm bells go off, although with the wine taking the edge off her nerves, she was more interested than frightened. "What?" she asked, "what do you want to propose?"

  
Nyssa smiled – a genuine smile, not her usual cat-like grin. "Nothing fatal, I promise you." She drained her second cup of wine in one long gulp. "We're not as different as I originally thought," she began. "In our own ways, we're both women of great courage, with fathers who neither understood nor appreciated us. And we _are_ related – we _are_ family." She leaned toward Felicity, placing a hand tentatively on Felicity's forearm. "Why don't you consider staying here with me? Together we could be a force to be reckoned with – your brains combined with my battle skills? We could take on Malcolm Merlyn and get him out of both our lives, once and for all. _Two_ women of Ra's bloodline? The League would have to respect that." When Felicity frowned and said nothing, Nyssa quickly added, "I know you're concerned about Oliver. He can stay here as well, and you can continue to live with him. I will make no further claims to being his wife. The two of you can produce Heirs."

  
Felicity nearly choked in mid-swallow - she wasn't sure she had had _enough_ wine for this twist in the conversation. Two hours ago they had been at each others' throats. Now Nyssa was proposing that they live together as family. It would be touching, if it wasn't so weird – and so impossible to contemplate. Still, the woman had made an offer in all sincerity and she deserved a thoughtful answer. And besides, somewhere deep down, it was a little bit flattering to have Nyssa's respect, to be called a woman of courage.

  
"Nyssa," Felicity began softly, "I don't know what to say." _Believe me, I don't!_ "I appreciate the offer – I really do – but I'm not sure I'm cut out for Nanda Parbat and the League. My skills seem more useful in the…modern…world. Without a computer and wireless, I'm not sure how helpful I would be to you. I'm afraid I'd just become something else you would have to protect – a liability."

  
Nyssa shook her head. "You're undervaluing yourself," she said sharply. "Don't do that. Your true skill lies in your intelligence, not your use of a computer. You managed to make Merlyn back down in Nanda Parbat. Even he was impressed."

  
"By using technology I brought from Starling City."

  
Nyssa sighed, "Maybe. But I'm confident that you could come up with something equally as clever if you had to. We would work together. And anyway, this isn't only about you being an ally. This is about blood sticking with blood. Other than a half-brother and sister whom I have never met, I have no other family. I find the idea appealing."

  
Damn – the cold-hearted daughter of Ra's al Ghul was showing that she actually had a softer side. Once again, it was difficult not to be touched. Felicity wasn't exactly loaded with family either. Other than a mother who was loving but often didn't understand her and a father who was absent, Felicity was bereft of relatives. She felt warmed by Nyssa's offer. Still, there was no way she and Oliver were going to make a home in Nanda Parbat. It appeared she was going to have to be more direct with that message. If she couldn't dissuade Nyssa by arguing that she'd be of little help, she was just going to have to tell her the truth.

  
She shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said firmly, "but I can't stay here. I don't…agree…with the League and what it stands for. As pleased as I am that you want to be family, I really don't belong and I wouldn't be happy. And as much as I _dislike_ Malcolm Merlyn and wish he would go away, I don't want to do it in permanent, he's-no-longer-breathing sense." Trying to lighten her answer, she added, "And I can't imagine living anywhere that doesn't have a decent latte. I'll admit you have the wine thing covered." She raised her empty cup approvingly.

  
To her surprise, Nyssa smiled. "I understand – I'm disappointed, but I thought you might say something like that." She shrugged slightly. "Perhaps there will be a time when you change your mind. If anything happens with Oliver… _to Oliver_ … and you need help or protection, you can reach out to me. I remember Sara always used to quote some poem when she talked about _her_ family – 'Home is the place that where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.' I think I would like to be that home for you." She stretched lazily, wiggling her toes in front of the fire. "For now, let's just sit here a while longer. It's been nice. I haven't been able to talk to anyone like this since Sara."

  
Felicity wasn't sure whether it was the wine, the warmth of the fire, or Nyssa's words, but she felt as though a thousand pounds had been lifted off her shoulders. "Sounds good," she said softly, stretching her own legs out as well.

  
The tranquil moment lasted about another thirty seconds. The door flew open and if Oliver didn't exactly burst into the room, he certainly entered with energy. "Felicity, are you…?" He stopped when he saw the two women seated on the floor in front of the fire, clearly _not_ having an argument. Nyssa and Felicity looked at each other before turning to grin up at him. Felicity couldn't stop the small giggle that bubbled up inside her. She was pretty sure he hadn't been expecting this. Oliver's eyes narrowed as he studied her then moved to the empty wine bottle. He bent down and picked the bottle up.

  
"Are you both…"

  
"Relaxed?" Felicity completed for him. "Happy? In a good mood?"

  
"I was going to say drunk."

  
She turned to Nyssa. "Oliver thinks we're drunk."

  
Nyssa shook her head. "Not at all. We've had a good conversation and now we're just…mellow."

  
"Mellow," he repeated.

  
Felicity nodded. "Yup, mellow. We've discussed the situation and Nyssa's agreed to squash any notion that I'll ever claim my inheritance. In addition, my… _aunt_ … and I have decided that since we're both short on relatives, we need to keep in touch. You know – birthdays, Christmas, annual family reunion – that sort of thing." She smiled at Nyssa and Nyssa smiled back.

  
Oliver looked between the two of them. "Right," he said flatly, "keep in touch. You _are_ drunk."

  
"Not in the least." She raised her eyebrows at him, daring him to disagree. He stared back, and the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. No one said anything for a moment.

  
Finally Nyssa sighed and reached for boots. "Well, I imagine you both have things to discuss." She pulled them on, then slowly got to her feet. Looking down at Felicity she added, "Remember what I said – if you ever need help…"

  
"I'll remember."

  
"Goodnight then. And have a safe trip back."

  
"Thanks."

  
Nyssa turned to give her one last, warm smile from the doorway – and then she was gone.

  
Oliver sat down in the spot Ra's daughter had just occupied. "Care to tell me what that was all about?" he asked. "I expected fireworks and instead I find the two of you acting like BFF's. You two bonded over a bottle of wine?"

  
Felicity shrugged, "There really isn't much to tell. We talked about our fathers, decided we're not as different as we originally thought, and promised to look out for one another. We agreed that family needs to stick together."

  
"And you _swear_ you're not drunk – or drugged, maybe?"

  
"Yes, I swear. I told you – just pleasantly mellow. A couple of glasses of wine." Of course they were big glasses.

  
"So… are you too mellow to get back to what we were doing before we were interrupted?"

  
She grinned. "What exactly _were_ we doing?"

  
He pushed her down into the blankets. "I believe I was looking for the signaling device. You can tell me more about your conversation with Nyssa later." He kissed her neck while his hands started to work on the button of her jeans. She felt her heart begin to speed up as he tugged them down.

  
"Oliver?"

  
"Yes?"

  
"You probably should find the device and remove it now."

  
"Why?"

  
"Because if you make me come while I'm still wearing it, I could blow up at least another 3 rooms."

  
He laughed.

* * *

  
Malcolm Merlyn kept to his word and they left Nanda Parbat the next morning. Felicity's relief was almost palpable. Oliver watched her fuss with the coffee machine on the corporate jet trying to make herself a latte, and wondered how seriously she had taken Nyssa's offer to be family. He found it hard to believe that Felicity would ever align herself with anyone in the League; still, it was in her nature to think the best of people and, not having many relatives himself any longer, he could understand the pull of kinship. He was happy to be on the plane leaving both Malcolm and the League behind them. Now that they'd done what they'd said they would do, he wondered what came next.

  
John put his thoughts into words. "So, what are your plans now?" he asked Oliver and Felicity. "Merlyn is at bay – and least for the moment – and you two are free to go anywhere you want. What do you want to do?" Oliver noticed Thea sit a little straighter at John's question, her eyes turned hopefully toward her brother.

  
He looked at Felicity, waiting for her to answer. She looked back at him, probably waiting for the same thing. He gestured for her to go first.

  
"Well," she said slowly, "I _did_ coerce the board of Palmer Technologies into making me CEO. I feel like I should at least take a crack at the job – I probably owe them that." When Oliver frowned she added, "And _I'd_ like the chance, too, Oliver. This isn't just about keeping a promise to the board. Ray left me his company because he thought I'd be good at leading it. I'd like to find out if he was right. That will mean sticking around Starling City."

  
Oliver nodded. If Felicity wanted to explore her true potential, that was a good reason to return. Looking at the expectant eyes of his sister, he decided that being near Thea was another good reason. And, finally, he'd always thought of Starling as _his_ city. He'd enjoyed living south of Coast City, but perhaps it was time to come home.

  
"So," he agreed, "we return to Starling." He turned to Felicity, "Although I'm always going to remember our place on the beach. I hope we find a way to get back next summer – maybe every summer." She smiled, her eyes widening at his certainty that they would be together for every summer to come. His meaning wasn't lost on anyone.

  
Diggle cleared his throat. "So…we know Felicity will be running Palmer. What do you plan to do with yourself?" he asked Oliver.

  
Oliver shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. Maybe I'll just hang around the house as a kept man." He grinned at his girlfriend. "You can remind me how, once again, I've managed to avoid having a job."

  
Felicity laughed, "You'll get bored."

  
"Maybe. But after almost ten years of fighting, I'm kind of anxious to give it a try."

* * *

  
They settled in an apartment in the middle of the city. Oliver loved it. With Felicity's salary as CEO they probably could have afforded something grander, but it was big enough to be comfortable yet cozy enough to remind him of the bungalow on the beach. It was also new – neither his nor hers from before – but theirs now. A new place for a new life together.

  
And right across the street there was a park with a few miles of trails; perfect for the morning run.

  
Some days Felicity ran with him. If she didn't have an early meeting, if the weather looked especially nice, she'd lace up her shoes and join him on the paths. If he wasn't pushing hard, she could both keep up and maintain a steady stream of chatter.

  
Some mornings, he ran alone. He almost never wanted time to himself anymore, but Felicity would still insist that he take it. She'd pull the pillow over her head and announce that she wanted to catch an extra half hour of sleep before work. He'd come back to find her still in bed, stretched out blissfully with the alarm shut off.

  
This morning was definitely not a morning that he wanted to run alone. The day was beautiful, the morning sun peeping above the horizon to reveal a crystal, cloudless sky. He'd awoken feeling refreshed and as peppy as a teenager. When Felicity didn't rouse immediately, he simply picked her up bodily from bed and carried her over his shoulder for the short walk to the kitchen so they could get the coffee started together. The early morning light filtered through the windows and Felicity looked beautiful wearing his tee shirt and a mass of tumbled blonde hair.

  
He couldn't help grinning at her. "What do you think we should do for our run this morning? The long route? It looks really nice out there. We could burn off enough calories to have some of those pastries at the new bakery down the street."

  
To his surprise, she didn't return the smile, even with the promise of her favorite pastries. "I'm not so sure. I think I'll pass this morning. You're looking awfully energetic. I don't think I'll be able to keep up."

  
"Felicity, you keep up just fine."

  
"Yeah," she agreed, "normally I do. But you look like you're jumping out of your skin. It might be better to let you take this one alone. Of course," she paused, and this time she did smile, "there are other ways we could expend that energy."

  
He laughed. "I really should take the run. I'm training with John later today and I want to be warmed up and ready for it. Besides," he added, "now that I'm a man of leisure, I don't want to let myself get soft."

  
She shrugged at him. "Okay, if you're sure." The motion caused the tee shirt to slip down on one side, exposing a bare shoulder and a little bit of cleavage. She was the only woman Oliver knew who could manage to look innocent and seductive at the same time. He thought about the last time they'd had a similar conversation, months ago in the bungalow on the beach. He'd chosen to run that time.

  
"No," he said suddenly, "I'm not sure. I think you may have the better idea."

  
He picked her up and carried her back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm calling this one complete for now, although I may come back and revisit the premise. Thank you so much for reading. The plan is now to focus 100% on "Felicity Takes a Holiday" and post there more regularly. My favorite Arrow story that I've written is the first chapter of "The Physics of Lies." If you haven't read it, give it a try. It's a complete story in about 8000 words. It's angsty, but it's the only think I've written that didn't require dozens of rewrites. For folks who wonder why I don't post more frequently -- I write almost every day. I just...rewrite a lot.
> 
> Thank you very much to all who bookmarked and gave kudos. You can't imagine how much it is appreciated.  
> \- Boston Strong -


	12. Epilogue:  In which Mama Smoak meets Aunt Nyssa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this story was complete. However, I needed something to cheer me up given the damaged state of Olicity in S4 at the moment, and this came to mind.  
> Happy Easter.

Felicity wasn't entirely surprised when Oliver brought up the subject of marriage. Six months living together in Starling City – excuse me, _Star City_ – confirmed that they were very compatible, even away from the romantic and carefree environment of the beach bungalow. Real life hadn't dampened their enthusiasm for each other and, despite the stress of Felicity being CEO of Palmer and Oliver dressing in green fairly regularly, things were very good. There was laughter, the occasional argument, and an awful lot of sex. Sex with Oliver never seemed to become routine. Felicity often found that as she neared the end of a long day of operating meetings, her mind would involuntarily wander from sales projections and inventory levels to visions of well-defined abs, large biceps, and intense blue eyes that she knew were waiting in the apartment. By 6 pm she'd be sprinting for the elevator.

Above all, in this new life in Star City, there was love. Her old apartment had been a place to crash and store her belongings; the new place was a real home, and she cherished the time that she and Oliver were able to spend there. No matter what happened at Palmer during the day or, for that matter, with the criminal element at night, it was an oasis of calm where she could be herself with someone who appreciated her for herself. She was pretty sure Oliver felt the same.

So she wasn't surprised when he mentioned marriage as a possibility. That he went so far as to _propose_ , on the other hand, sent her into a bit of a tailspin.

Given his history, she'd figured they'd be one of those couples who lived together for five years before tying the knot. Not that Oliver couldn't make up his mind, but his track record with women suggested elements of a commitment-phobe. Of course she knew that his playboy-Ollie days were long behind him, but that didn't mean the pendulum would swing so far as to be talking marriage in less than a year. At a minimum, she'd expected to have to talk him out of his _I'm not fit to be with anyone_ mantra at least once or twice. And there was that whole _if it ain't broke_ thing going on as well. Life was pretty damn good just as it was. She wasn't sure it made sense to play with fate. There was no immediate reason to get married unless you were thinking about starting a family and – _oh shit_ , she _really_ didn't want to go there.

After a few days of stressing over his proposal, however, she found the idea growing on her. Their lives were tied together in every possible way, so committing to love, honor and cherish each other forever really wasn't much of a stretch. By today's standards she was a little young to be getting married, but then she was also young to be the CEO of a Fortune 100 company and she was handling that just fine, thank you very much. And the certainty that she would be lying down to sleep beside Oliver every night for the rest of her life filled her with unimaginable joy. When she thought of the man she had met nearly four years ago – heroic but emotionally closed off – she couldn't help but be amazed at the man he had become. The fact that she'd played a part in that transformation was gratifying, and she knew with certainty that they were better people when they were together. Indeed, once she'd got over the initial shock, she couldn't remember why she'd had any hesitation at all about marriage. Heck, she was ready to order the damn dress and march down the aisle tomorrow.

Unfortunately, there were two proverbial flies in the ointment. And they were pretty good sized flies – horseflies as opposed to tiny fruit flies.

The first was that she was going to have to tell her mother. Oliver had met Donna Smoak, but only in passing. The team had been dealing with Felicity's ex-boyfriend turned criminal mastermind at the time, and Oliver and Mom had exchanged a few words before he and Digg had disappeared to the foundry. He had yet to experience Donna in all her big-hair, tight-dress, overly enthusiastic glory. Felicity felt confident he would be able to see past the glitzy exterior to the good heart underneath – well, fairly confident – but it was still not a reunion she was looking forward to. Given that men often consider their future mother-in-law a harbinger of what their fiancée will be like in twenty years, she was going to have to reassure him that the similarities stopped with blonde hair.

The other fly was more worrisome. As hard as she wanted to pretend that it didn't matter and told herself that she didn't believe it, there remained the fact that Oliver had married Nyssa al Ghul in a quickie ceremony in Nanda Parbat. Even if the two of them had never done the deed to seal the deal (she just _couldn't_ get herself to think about Oliver with Nyssa in anything but a euphemism), at some point they had said "I do," or the Arabic equivalent, in front of witnesses. That Nyssa was her aunt only added a _yuck_ factor to the whole thing. The good news was that the woman had sworn she would not contest a marriage between Oliver and Felicity. They hadn't spoken since their bottle of wine in Nanda Parbat, but Felicity was confident that Nyssa would keep to her word. The bad news was that Felicity couldn't get rid of the notion there _had_ been a formal wedding and Oliver was treading dangerously close to bigamist territory. She wondered desperately if there were some kind of League of Assassins _Undo_ button that could be clicked just to cover all their bases. Felicity believed in being thorough. And, let's be honest, she hadn't always had the best luck with men. Now that she'd found the right one, she wouldn't put it past Fate to intervene dramatically at the _if anyone knows why these two cannot be joined_ moment.

In the interest of having a frank and open partnership, Felicity shared her concerns with Oliver. Predictably, he minimized both of them.

"Felicity, I've faced Mirakuru soldiers and nearly died from Ra's al Ghul's sword. How bad can your mother be?"

"Seriously, Oliver? You've never really talked to her. Take away Ra's sword and I'd say it's an even match. Once she finds out I'm engaged to _the_ Oliver Queen…well, her enthusiasm will know no bounds. Every woman on the Las Vegas cocktail waitress network is going to be buzzing about it – because Mom's going to brag to each and every one of them. She'll want the biggest, most lavish ceremony possible."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Not for a different couple, but it's not _us_ , Oliver. I want something small and simple, with our just our closest friends. I'm happy about becoming your wife, but the whole world doesn't _need_ to know I'm marrying Oliver Queen. I'd like to keep it low key."

Oliver frowned. "How low key?"

"A civil ceremony, with just our closest friends in Star and Central Cities."

He studied her thoughtfully. "You're not embarrassed about marrying me, are you?"

She reached out and took his hand. "Of course not. But I also don't want to tempt Fate. Let's be honest - you and happiness have not had the best relationship. Every time you get close to being happy, something happens to screw it up. Now that you _are_ happy – that we're happy together – I don't want to flaunt it in Fate's face. A quiet ceremony, under the radar, seems safer. Hell, we can really simplify and just elope, with John and Lyla as witnesses. I give you a ring, you give me a ring, and we go out for a good steak dinner after. Easy peasey."

An amused smile appeared on Oliver's face. "Felicity, you're being silly. Nothing is going to interrupt our happiness. I'm sure Fate will be perfectly fine with the two of us getting married. In fact, I think Fate wants us to be together. All those times I stupidly tried to go off on my own, she's always brought you back to me. I think this is meant to be." When Felicity failed to be reassured, his smile slowly faded. After a minute he exhaled heavily. "Okay," he said slowly, "this is about Nyssa, isn't it. The ceremony in Nanda Parbat? Felicity, I was forced to marry her at the point of a sword. It hardly counts and it's ancient history. Believe me, no one from the League is going to come all the way to Star City just to contest our wedding."

"And you know this because the League has always been so reasonable and rational? Forgive me if I don't find your logic comforting. And don't joke about Fate. She hasn't exactly been on our side in the past. Frankly, I think you're already pushing it by giving me your mother's ring. Moira wasn't too fond of me – if she can look down from wherever she is right now, I doubt she's happy seeing it on my finger."

He shook his head and stared at her for a long moment. His smile slowly started to re-emerge, along with a very specific look in his eyes. She knew that look very well.

"Don't stare at me like that, Oliver. Now is not the time. We're having an important discussion."

If anything, the smile grew broader. "Felicity, you know you're adorable when you're worried – and kind of hot. That little pucker you get in your forehead? Complete turn-on." He reached out to run one finger gently down her cheek and then followed it by trailing his entire hand lightly down her arm. The hand came to rest on her hip. His eyes darkened. She felt her pulse quicken and tried desperately to get them back on point.

"Oh no, no, no, no, Oliver. This is serious. You're not going to great sex your way out of this talk."

" _Great sex_ my way out of it?"

"You know what I mean. You'll get me in bed and when we're finished I'll be too limp to argue. You do it any time we have a difference of opinion."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar."

There was a long pause. He looked a little worried. "Is it working?"

"Too damn well."

"Oh, thank God. I thought I was losing my touch."

The discussion was over.

* * *

 

Oliver looked at the small group of people gathered in their apartment. He was proud of the way he'd handled things. Everyone said marriage was about compromise – and that's exactly what he and Felicity had done. He'd wanted to announce their engagement to everyone they knew; she'd wanted to tell no one.

They'd settled on telling the Team. It wasn't exactly _everyone_ , but it was more than _no one_ and it included the people they cared about most. They invited Thea, Laurel, Captain Lance and the Diggles over for wine and appetizers, and somewhere between the bruschetta and the chicken wings they casually dropped the news that they planned to get married.

The response was pretty much what Oliver had anticipated. Thea looked delighted and John and Lyla seemed pleased. Laurel appeared surprised but not upset, and Captain Lance – well Oliver thought Lance looked relieved more than anything. It was understandable. Marriage to Felicity meant no chance that Oliver would end up with Laurel. Lance had grown to have a grudging respect for Oliver over the last year, but Oliver doubted that respect extended to wanting him to marry his daughter. There was too much history between Oliver Queen and the Lance girls – most of it not good – and Oliver was certain Lance would never quite get over younger Oliver's cavalier treatment of his daughters.

Once the news had been announced and Oliver and Felicity had been congratulated, the group fell back into casual, easy chatter, becoming even easier as the wine continued to flow. With soft music playing in the background, they reminisced over Team Arrow victories and Thea and Laurel shared stories about Oliver as a kid. Felicity listened to those stories with rapt attention, occasionally turning to grin at Oliver when the tale involved something particularly immature or foolish. The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows casting the apartment in a warm, golden glow. Oliver felt happy and at peace. This had turned out even nicer than he had expected.

He was in the kitchen with Felicity replenishing the chips and salsa when the doorbell rang. It was rare for anyone to come to the door – they weren't that well acquainted with their neighbors and it was a building in which people mostly kept to themselves. He wondered if they'd gotten a little too loud but that was hard to believe; this was hardly a raucous group. He heard Thea say, "Can I help you?" followed by a female voice saying excitedly, "Where is she? Where's my girl?" There was something vaguely familiar about the voice although he couldn't quite place it. Next to him, Felicity closed her eyes and groaned.

And suddenly, with a blur of blonde hair and blue dress, there was a third person in the kitchen and Felicity was being grabbed and hugged by a woman just about her size. Looking at the woman as she squeezed Felicity enthusiastically, Oliver's first impression was to wonder if there was room even for underwear under that dress. It left nothing to the imagination and he found himself noticing detailed physical similarities between the woman and his girlfriend, including a pretty amazing backside. He mentally slapped himself when he realized that this was Felicity's mother.

"Oh my baby," Donna Smoak squealed, "I just heard the news and had to come right away! Congratulations – I'm so happy for you! Not only do you finally have a boyfriend, but you're actually getting _married!_ " Her hug tightened and Felicity looked desperately up at Oliver over her mother's shoulder. _Please help me_ , the look said. Oliver shrugged weakly. Short of putting Donna in a headlock, he wasn't sure what he could do for Felicity at this moment.

"Mom?" Felicity took matters into her own hands and attempted to extricate herself - entirely without success. "Mom!" she said more firmly. "How on earth did you hear? We just told our friends an hour ago."

Donna Smoak finally stepped back, giving Felicity a chance to breathe. "Oh, honey," she said brightly, "Terry Leibowitz called me."

"Mrs. Leibowitz? My old _babysitter_?

"Terry hasn't looked after children for some time. She's a blackjack dealer at the Luxor now – much better pay."

Felicity's forehead puckered. Oliver refrained from telling her it was adorable. "Mom," she said a little frantically, "how would Mrs. Leibowitz know about my engagement?"

"Do you remember her daughter, Shelby… from temple? She was a few years older than you and not nearly as good a student. Well, anyway, Shelby works in Accounting at Palmer Technologies. She overheard you talking to Oliver on your phone in the ladies room. She was so excited she called her mother right away."

There was a long pause as Felicity absorbed that information. "I knew I should have checked under the stall doors," she said to Oliver a little bitterly. For a fleeting moment he wondered whether Shelby Leibowitz would still have a job on Monday but, fortunately for Shelby, Felicity wasn't a vindictive person. Well, not most of the time, anyway.

Meanwhile, Donna Smoak continued to effervesce – if that was indeed a verb. "I knew my daughter was in love with you," she said to Oliver, "but I had no idea you felt the same about her. I'm so pleased. Not only did my techie girl find herself a man, but she's got a famous, hot one. Your wedding is going to be the talk of the city. Goodness, even your engagement party is going to…" She paused, and as if someone had flicked a switch, her smile disappeared. She looked around the kitchen at the bottles of wine and the various finger-foods. She turned back towards her daughter with an expression that was somewhere between hurt and angry. "This _is_ an engagement party, isn't it?" It was half question, half statement. When Felicity didn't reply, she went on, "This is _your_ engagement party… and I wasn't invited."

"Mom-"

"My only daughter, my only _child_ becomes engaged to be married and she doesn't tell her mother. Not even a phone call."

"Mom-"

"No, I understand. You're mixing with the city's elite now and you're embarrassed about your cocktail waitress mother – too embarrassed to invite her to your own engagement party."

"Mom-"

"I came here hoping to spend a couple of days to get to know your _fiancé_ better, but I can see that's not a good idea. You're busy, I should have called first to make an appointment. Well, don't worry. I'm sure there's a flight leaving for Vegas later tonight. I'll head back to the airport and…"

"Mom!" Felicity actually slapped her hand on the counter to get her mother's attention. It worked. Donna stopped talking and stared at her daughter. "Mom, this is all very new. We only got engaged a couple of days ago. The people here are Oliver's sister and our closest friends. You can see it's a tiny party, barely a party at all. It's not as if we announced it to the world. I _swear_ we were going to tell you soon."

"When?"

Felicity smiled weakly. "We were thinking right after the wedding?" Oliver couldn't tell if that was meant as a joke. Apparently Donna Smoak couldn't either because her stare got a little colder.

The thirty seconds of silence felt like it lasted five minutes.

Donna must have decided it was time for another approach, because she turned from Felicity to direct her glare at Oliver. He was beginning to see what Felicity had meant when she'd said her mother might be a match for Ra's al Ghul. He fought the urge to bolt from the kitchen to the safety of Team Arrow and forced himself to meet her eyes.

"I know my daughter well enough to believe that keeping the engagement quiet was _her_ idea," she said crisply. "She's always been a little secretive. But I can't understand, Oliver, why _you_ didn't talk her out of it. Surely you want your wedding to be more of an _event_. And to not insist that she call me? Really, is this any way to begin your relationship with your future mother-in-law?" She crossed her arms over her rather ample assets and looked at him expectantly.

Oliver felt a shiver run down his spine and desperately searched his brain for the right thing to say. For _anything_ to say. He settled on, "Felicity's happiness is the most important thing in the world to me, Mrs. Smoak. Of course I wouldn't have minded a bigger announcement and party, but this is what Felicity wanted and I will always respect her wishes."

It was a good choice. The tension left Donna's body (easily observed in that dress) and she resumed smiling at Oliver. It felt good and he was congratulating himself until he noticed that Felicity was now the one glaring at him. He had to do something, he realized, to end this conversation or there was a good chance he was going to wind up needing his bow. He tried to keep his voice light. "Maybe we should get out of the kitchen so you can meet our friends," he said to Donna. "I'm sure they'd love to be introduced to Felicity's mom."

She nodded quickly. "That's a lovely idea, Oliver." Turning to Felicity she said in a low voice, "He's hot _and_ polite. Maybe getting married quickly wasn't such a bad idea. You want to get a ring on this one before he changes his mind."

Oliver could see the retort forming in Felicity's brain and, before she could say anything, took Donna by the elbow to hastily guide her out of the kitchen. He thought it would be a good idea to give Felicity a minute or two to regroup. It was amazing how quickly the quiet but very cordial atmosphere of the party had morphed into something else, and he was pretty certain that this was exactly what Felicity had wanted to avoid when she suggested they not call her mother. Unfortunately, he didn't think any amount of good sexing later was going to make up for it either. As they passed through the doorway he saw her reach for her wine glass and take a sizable gulp.

Back with the Team in the family room, Oliver made the introductions. Other than Diggle, every face was a new one for Donna and she assumed a more subdued tone as she met her daughter's friends. There were a few awkward moments – Oliver was sure John was going to have to explain later to Lyla why he left baby Sara in this woman's care, and Donna's eyes narrowed when she learned that Laurel was once Oliver's girlfriend – but those awkward moments passed and the conversation began to flow more easily. Whatever Felicity might say about her mom, it was clear the woman was proud of her and loved her very much. For Oliver, that made it difficult not to like Donna; any woman who could raise a person who turned out to be Felicity had to have some special qualities.

After a short while Felicity entered the room with a tray containing the chips and salsa, plus an assortment of cheeses and crackers. Her face was flushed, Oliver noted, but she appeared to have regained her composure. She took in the general atmosphere and looked at him inquiringly. He gave her a tepid smile and a miniscule shrug, as if to say _as good as can be expected_. She smiled back and he suddenly remembered the reason that everyone was here. They were celebrating the fact that this woman had agreed to be his wife, that she was going to be smiling like that at him for the rest of their lives. And nothing else mattered – not the glamour of the wedding, not the size of the guest list and not – God forgive him – his future mother-in-law. Just her.

She set down the tray and joined him on the sofa, resting her hand comfortably on his thigh. Both he and Felicity were quiet as their guests took over the conversation, and she gradually relaxed and leaned her head against his shoulder. It was Felicity's turn, this time, to have her childhood exposed as Donna told stories about her ability to read at age three and her habit of taking apart every mechanical thing in the house to see how it worked. Felicity cringed a few times, but for the most part seemed okay with it, and Oliver felt some of the former peace return to the party. He covered the hand that Felicity had placed on his thigh with his own and felt her warmth and light seep into him.

The doorbell rang.

Felicity and Oliver looked at each other. "Well, we know it can't be _my_ mother," he said.

She gave him a quick smile and brushed her lips lightly against his cheek before getting up from the sofa to answer the door. When she did, Oliver once again felt the calm atmosphere of the party disappear down a black hole.

Nyssa al Ghul stood there, in full League of Assassins garb.

Everyone except Donna leapt to his or her feet. Both John and Lyla reached for their back holsters before remembering that they had left their Glocks at home. Lance and his daughter's response was a bit more measured – whatever they might think of Nyssa they both appreciated the love she'd had for Sara – but they still looked ready for battle. And Thea had fire in her eyes. For a good minute no one said a thing. The tension in the room was solid enough to walk on.

And then…

"Isn't anyone going to introduce me?" Donna's voice was plaintive.

Felicity looked up into Nyssa's eyes and Oliver could see some kind of unspoken communication pass between the two women. The exchange seemed cordial and he felt his nerves ease a little. Whatever accord they'd reached in Nanda Parbat appeared to be carrying over into Star City. Felicity stepped away from the doorway and gestured into the family room.

"Nyssa, come in and meet my mother," she said. Her voice was even but Oliver wasn't fooled. He could hear an undercurrent of something else – not exactly dread, maybe more like uneasy anticipation.

"Your mother?" As always, Nyssa was cool and composed.

"Yes, she just flew in this afternoon. Unexpectedly."

"I see." After studying Donna briefly, Nyssa strode over and announced calmly, "Nyssa al Ghul, Heir to the Demon."

In turn, Donna stared Ra's daughter up and down. She seemed a little nonplussed but not intimidated, and she clearly was unimpressed with Nyssa's style choices. "Donna Smoak, Cocktail Waitress and Felicity's mother," she responded.

The two women continued to eye each other. Oliver noticed that Felicity had remained by the door and, after observing the tension in _her_ body, walked over to join her. It was clear she needed support. Her face wore the same expression you had when you bumped into a coffee table and watched your mother's favorite vase teeter precariously before hitting the floor and smashing into a million pieces.

Nyssa acknowledged Donna with an almost imperceptible nod. "I assume you're here for the same reason that I am – to congratulate Felicity on her engagement?"

Felicity's forehead puckered once more. It was becoming a regular thing, Oliver thought. "Okay," she said to Nyssa sharply, "how in hell did _you_ find out about it, all the way in Nanda Parbat?" She turned to Oliver helplessly. "I don't know what I was thinking, trying to keep it quiet. We may as well have posted it on our Facebook page – if we had a Facebook page. Which we don't."

Nyssa smiled serenely. "We maintain operatives in Star City," she explained. "One of them overheard you talking on the phone to Oliver and notified me immediately."

Felicity's forehead pucker grew deeper and Oliver could almost see the wheels turning as she worked through the possibilities. The wheels stopped as she reached her conclusion. "Shelby Leibowitz is in the League of Assassins?" she asked Nyssa disbelievingly.

Nyssa shrugged. "I think that's her name. I can never remember the non-Arabic versions." After a few seconds she added, "She's quite skilled. Given that we know that you are a blood heir, we thought it a good idea to have someone watching you. For your own protection, of course, my dear niece."

Felicity frowned. Oliver couldn't tell if she was angry or touched. Maybe a little of both, he thought.

"Excuse me. Did you say niece?" Donna Smoak broke in.

Nyssa turned back to her coolly. "Yes, I am Felicity's aunt. Did she not tell you?"

Donna shook her head. "Felicity never tells me anything. And if she had, I wouldn't have believed her. My husband had one sister – and you're not her. And I don't have any sisters. So I don't think you can be her aunt. If you're trying to claim some kind of relationship now that my daughter is engaged to Oliver Queen then -"

"I am James Smoak's half –sister. Our father remarried and had a second family."

Next to him, Oliver noticed that Felicity was slipping off her shoes. He bent down close to her ear and asked softly, "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to sprint to the bar for cover," she replied equally as quietly. "I can move a lot faster without the heels."

Across the room, Donna laughed sharply. "I'm not buying that one," she said to Nyssa. I met James' father once, and he was hardly a kid then. He must have been a hundred and ten when he had you. I know men can have children late in life, but you're going to have to come up with something better." Oliver had to hand it to her. Nyssa was taller, darker and carrying a sword, yet Felicity's mother did not seem the least bit daunted.

"Mom?" Felicity interrupted, tentatively.

"Yes, hon?"

"She's telling the truth."

Donna Smoak snorted, "Oh Felicity, wake up and smell the coffee. It's a scam. You're a young woman without much of a family and now you're the CEO of a major company, marrying Oliver Queen. People claiming to be relatives are going to be coming out of the woodwork. You can't believe any of them."

"Actually, Dad told me the story, not Nyssa."

That caught Donna Smoak short. She pursed her lips and stared at her daughter. After a moment she said flatly, "You've been talking to your father?"

"Not regularly," Felicity responded carefully. "Just once. He came to see Oliver and I when we were living in Coast City. He told me then about _his_ father and his half-brother and sister. So I'm the one who actually confronted Nyssa with the news. She didn't believe it at first either."

Donna frowned as she digested that. "You went in search of a complete _stranger_ to tell her that you might be related – if your father is to be believed? Felicity, what happened to your common sense? You're usually much smarter than that."

Oliver felt Felicity shift her weight to the balls of her now-bare feet - probably getting ready for that sprint. It wasn't a bad idea. At the moment he fervently wished that they'd told _no one_ that they were getting married. Felicity was right. They should have eloped and waited at least a year before announcing the news. It would have been much safer.

Felicity took a deep breath. "Actually, Mom, Nyssa wasn't a complete stranger. We knew each other from…something else."

"Not to mention the fact," Nyssa added serenely, "that I'm Oliver's wife."

Everyone froze. You could have heard a flea scratching its head a hundred yards away. For a moment Oliver thought Donna was going to collapse into her chair, but she stiffened her spine (again, easy to see in that dress) and pulled herself together. The glare she'd given him in the kitchen was nothing compared to the one she gave him now.

"You're already married," she said to Oliver sharply.

"No, Mrs.-Donna. I'm not. It's all a misunderstanding."

She breathed in deeply. "How can you misunderstand whether you're married or not? Was there a ceremony?"

"Yes, but…"

"Did you say _I do_?"

"Yes, but…"

"Then what in hell are you doing proposing to my daughter and getting her hopes up? God, all my girlfriends kept reminding me about the Oliver Queen playboy stories, but I told them that you had changed, that you were going make an excellent husband for Felicity. And what do you do? You break my little girl's heart." She looked for a moment at Nyssa's sword and Oliver unconsciously raised one hand to his neck. Fortunately, the weapon appeared out of immediate reach.

He leaned over and murmured in Felicity's ear, "So, when are you making the run for the bar? I'll be right behind you – I'm ready any time." She took a step forward and he rested his hand on the small of her back.

"Perhaps I can help," Nyssa offered, causing Felicity to rock back on her heels and look over toward her aunt. "I told you in Nanda Parbat that I wouldn't contest the marriage," she said to Felicity, "and I will keep to my word." Turning her gaze to Oliver she added, "Al Sah-Him, I divorce you."

Everyone stared at her for a few beats.

"Really?" Felicity asked suddenly. "That's it? _I divorce you_? You couldn't have said that when we were in Nanda Parbat?"

Nyssa shrugged. "I thought I'd see if you two lasted. Apparently your relationship is stronger than I thought."

Felicity rolled her eyes and shook her head. Oliver wasn't sure if she was going to hug Nyssa or strangle her. She settled for laughter. "Oh, God, I've been worried about that stupid Nanda Parbat wedding for weeks. And all you had to say was _I divorce you_ …" Her shoulders shook with laughter. Oliver felt himself start to chuckle as well.

Donna Smoak, however, wasn't quite so cheerful. "You met with your father," she said sharply to Felicity, ticking the statements off on her fingers. "You knew Oliver was married, and you went to some place called Nanda Parbat. Oh…and you have an aunt who dresses like she's living in the fourteenth century." After an angry pause she added, "Is there anything else you didn't tell your mother?"

"No, Mom, I think that's about it."

Donna shook her head. "My daughter," she said to Nyssa, "she's always been so damn secretive – even as a child."

Nyssa nodded. "Yes. I think she gets that from my side of the family."

Donna Smoak's eyes narrowed.

It was going to be a long evening.


End file.
